


Thy Chosen Path

by virberos



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, original world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29625588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virberos/pseuds/virberos
Summary: The moment Credo found out who was responsible for the deaths of his parents, he knew he had one thing to do: Run. Run and pray that he could protect those dear to him.It leads him far from home, into the world of someone most alike and yet most unlike him.
Relationships: Credo/Dante (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 22





	1. A New Land

The motel room stunk of cheap coffee and decades old smoke, despite the window being wide open to air out the room. The floral wallpaper looked like it was a decade behind the times, peeling at the corners from age. The two queen-size beds creaked with each roll of their slumbering occupants, hardly comfortable with their tired yellow and white blankets and sheets. The desk in the room was covered with scratch marks and coffee stains and newspapers. The newspapers, however, were a far more recent addition, from the very man who was occupying the room, currently looking over the newspapers: Credo Elesion, former knight of the Order of the Sword. The man looked like a far cry from the knight he once was, naive about the Order that he was running from. The man wore a dark grey turtleneck sweater, dark blue jeans, boots, and a lightly-used overcoat. At his feet was a guitar case containing his trusty Durandal and a briefcase containing clothes and documents. Honey-brown eyes looked back at his wards, fast asleep on the bed from their travels. Those two were the two people that meant the world to him: his eleven-year old sister Kyrie and his ten year old ward Nero, both in hand-me-down clothes. 

He glanced to the side table, their warm breakfasts untouched. He had returned with fast food breakfasts not five minutes ago but didn’t have the heart to wake them up. They deserved to sleep in, given how frequently they all had travelled. He wasn’t too fond of cheap fast food but Nero and Kyrie loved the meals of Sunrays (and they were easy on his very tight wallet, as long as they ordered off the one-euro menu. That one-euro turned into one-pound when they left France to enter the United Kingdom but the food quality remained roughly the same). He hoped that, one day, he could have the money to prepare good fulfilling meals for the two, with these fast food meals being no more than treats if they did good in schooling.

Credo ran a hand through his auburn hair, a far cry from it’s once slicked back style. Savior’s mercy, he still had their schooling to figure out! Thankfully, Kyrie’s teachers believed him when he requested to have her pulled out a week early for summer vacation as a reward for her stellar schoolwork. Nero’s mentor, on the other hand, needed far more convincing to let him have the week off. But all Credo needed was their yes for his plan to go into motion, his plan to escape Fortuna with the two. If he did his research right, the next three months were known as ‘summer vacation’ to the mainlanders (although mainlander was anyone outside Fortuna. If he spared a thought about it, wasn’t the United Kingdom just a series of islands?). 

Just last night, Credo had arrived to this cheap motel in Ironhaven. Kyrie and Nero were exhausted (not that he could blame them. He could only blame himself, spooked at what he thought was the Order finding him in the previous county, Lanercoast if he remembered correctly). Kyrie and Nero, the moment they hit the bed, were out like lights. Credo was still running on that adrenaline high and chastizing himself, realizing that he had spooked himself over nothing, just a dumb tourist phamplet about Fortuna. Now, as the morning light peered into the room, as he downed his upteenth cup of coffee (he lost count), he looked over the help wanted ads for cheap income. He was running low on money and he certainly would not look into escort work. He would not bring anyone to the motel room and his pride would not permit him to stoop so low. 

A rush of warmth burned his chest, causing Credo to clutch his heart. Ah yes, that infernal blood he was forced to nurture, to keep half a mind on lest he lose control of it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to vividly remember that accursed day. 

_ A too sterile scent reached his nose when Credo awoke, in the depths of the Order H.Q. Blinking awake, too bright light met his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut with a low groan. Everything in his body ached, most concentrated in his chest. Faintly, he could remember tendrils of black arcane power, a searing heat in his veins, and something infernal on the tip of his tongue.  _

_ But he wasn’t dead. Which was a relief. But that left another question: did he succeed? Fail? He hoped he didn’t fail, he couldn’t fail, he couldn’t lose Kyrie and Nero, after they already lost their parents.  _

_ “Ah, you’re awake!” That slimy voice! Credo slowly opened his eyes with a grumble. “Or, at the very least, you’re alive.” The knight found himself face to face with the Order’s lead scientist: Agnus Bazzoli.  _

_ “Am I not allowed to have my reprieve last longer?” He grumbled, slowly sitting up. He looked around, finding himself in what looked like a holding cell. He could faintly feel something demonic, in another room. But he was the only person here, next to Agnus...a searing warmth burned in his chest, causing him to double over from surprise. _

_ “Hm, you’re handling the Ascension Ceremony better than the last knight.” Agnus muttered. Credo raised an eyebrow. _

_ “The last knight?”  _

_ “Ah, yes! Not everyone can h-h-handle the Ascension Ceremony! Such g-g-great power, but if you lose control of it, well…” That grin was too wide for his tastes.  _

_ “Well, what!?” Credo asked. Agnus leaned forward, leering at him. _

_ “Everyone will fall to your power.” His blood froze at how eager Agnus sounded to witness it. His mind went right to his parents, his mother splayed out on the floor of their home ripped apart, his father skewered to the wall, the overwhelmingly strong scent of blood that threatened to make him hurl, and his sister, his baby sister, wailing for their mother, scared out of her mind.  _

_ “Is that...what will happen to me?” He whispered.  _

_ “Only if you’re not c-c-careful.” That didn’t soothe his fears. Agnus suddenly looked up, as if called by someone. “Ah, His Holiness calls for me.” And with that, Agnus left, leaving Credo with a heart ramming so hard in his ears that it deafened the sounds of his footsteps. How could His Holiness even approve of such a dangerous ritual when their own knights could suddenly turn into ravenous demons, the very demons that the Savior once slew to protect the human world?! This infernal blood...he feared the power it had.  _

_ And he feared the day that he would snap, only to find his blade in his sister’s chest.  _

“Credo?” Credo’s eyes snapped open. He forced himself to slowly look up at his now-awake sister. It seemed that Nero was fast asleep (or faking it, he was a little too sleep deprived to tell). “How long have you been awake?” 

“...a while.” He said dryly. Kyrie narrowed her eyes at him.

“You should sleep.” 

“I should.” He said, despite making no movement to do so. He watched as Kyrie slid off the bed to walk over to him, to tug at his sleeve.

“Credo, please.” Normally, that soft pleading voice would make him cave in...but not now. His mind was too busy, too active with painful memories and worries about their temporary living situation. He pulled his sleeve away carefully and petted her head.

“Later. I need to find a job first. Then I can rest.” And beyond that, he needed a more permanent place to stay, the nearest school to register them. It took almost a month to get up here and, despite the scare, he couldn’t run forever, he couldn’t have Nero and Kyrie miss any of their schooling. He promised that to the graves of his parents: to take care of them as best he could. Kyrie didn’t seem to believe him, hazel eyes staring him down. “Are you not hungry?” He asked her, trying to change the subject.

“I mean, I am, but you need to eat and sleep too!” She pointed out. Credo let out a sigh. His sister was too smart to fall for that change of topic easily. They were forced to grow up so fast and a part of him hated himself for it. He returned to the newspaper, unable to face his sister. It was then and there, his eyes found a help wanted ad.

**Help Wanted!** **  
** _**Devil May Cry** _

**Call J. D. Morrison at the following number**

Credo stared at the ad, at the number, before to the phone sitting on the desk that the newspaper was spread on. Perhaps this J. D. Morrison could work. He turned to Kyrie, who seemed to understand. She nodded and stepped back, watching Credo as he picked up the phone. He dialed the number and called, standing up straight to stretch his back. The dial tone rang twice before he heard a deep voice on the other side.

“Hello?” 

“Hello, I’m calling in regards to a help wanted ad you posted?” Credo asked, something he internally rehearsed enough times to not sound like a stuttering child, like that foul scientist Agnus. He swallowed the bile that came up at the memory. There was a hum on the other end.

“Took long enough.” The man muttered, not directed at him. “Well, can you come down tomorrow?” Credo instinctively shoved the newspaper aside, grabbing a pen and a notepad.

“Of course!” Credo exclaimed, cradling the phone with his shoulder. “Where do I need to be? And...I have children. They’re well behaved, they won’t touch anything or make a fuss, but I can’t leave them alone.” 

“I get you.” Morrison replied, followed with the address. “Devil May Cry has a big neon sign, you can’t miss it. Unless you don’t have transportation.” 

“Not yet...My children and I arrived last night.” Credo explained. “We’ve travelled a very long way.” 

“Wait, did you come over here by foot!?” 

“Mostly foot...but public transit when possible.” Credo elaborated.

“Damn. Alright, tomorrow it is. Where are you at?”

“Ironwinter Comfort Motel.” There was a soft ‘hm’ on the other end, followed by the sound of a map opening up. 

“Not too far from the shop, actually. A couple streets over. That OK?” 

“Fine. Perfectly fine.” Credo resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief. “Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow it is, Mister…?” 

“Elesion. It’s Credo Elesion.” Credo hadn’t revealed his name to anyone, aside from fake names and pseudonyms, but he needed a job, a name to his face, and he needed to settle down at some point. He couldn’t run forever...but nobody would expect a Knight of Fortuna in a city like this, dirty and industrial and urban compared to an almost-idyllic historic city. Morrison let out a thoughtful hum.

“Alright. Can’t wait to meet you, Elesion.” With that, Morrison hung up. Credo did the same and leaned back, letting out a relieved sigh. He had an interview. He could only hope that they would take him in, begin paying him, so he could begin the search for schools and apartments and finally settle down. This upheaval of their lives was only temporary, he had to remind himself. 

“Credo? Now can you sleep?” Kyrie asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. Credo glanced over to Kyrie, who was staring up intently at him.

“Perhaps...for a little while.” He relented, earning a wide smile from her. He slowly walked away from the desk. Kyrie ran to the other bed, pulling back the covers to let her brother lay down on the empty bed. When Credo was curled up in the bed, he felt Kyrie pull the sheets over him. “Wake me up if anyone knocks.”

“Of course.” Kyrie nodded as she tucked him in (just like their mother). He closed his eyes, faintly smelling english muffins and the grease of the hash browns and wishing that all this was just a bad dream. 

But it wasn’t. It was reality.


	2. The Name's Dante

The morning air was crisp, despite the dark grey storm clouds that hung over the skyline. Credo hung the worn guitar case over his shoulders, Kyrie dutifully holding the suitcase containing his clothes and the valuable travel documents. In her other hand was her own suitcase. Next to Credo was Nero, also holding his own suitcase. He eyed the city around them suspiciously, every stranger that passed them by. Credo had placed a hand on Kyrie’s shoulder, his other hand on Nero’s shoulder. Nero was quite irritated at being babied over by Credo but a stern glare from the knight silenced him for the time being. As they walked, Credo scowled at the neon sign above what looked to be a strip club: Love Plant in stylized letters. It seemed to be closed, a good thing according to the former knight. He glanced down to Kyrie and Nero, who seemed to be more focused on the building at the end of the street: a worn grey brick building, unassuming by all appearances, save for a neon sign that was almost as obnoxious as Love Planet that sat on the overhang that covered two oak doors. 

Devil May Cry. 

Credo noticed a black owl swooping over them, landing behind the sign. It led his eyes downward, to the entrance of the shop. Standing at the entrance of Devil May Cry was an African man, standing as if he was waiting for someone. He dressed nice enough, a suit that was casual enough to be friendly but still formal enough for business. Was this the eponymous J. D. Morrison that put the ad in the paper? The man glanced up and smiled, tipping his hat to the two as they approached.

“Credo Elesion?” 

“Present.” He said instinctively. He made a face. “I mean, yes.” Morrison merely chuckled. 

“Let me guess: some real strict schooling where you come from?” 

“Very.” Credo offered a small friendly smile. “My children and I come from Piombino, Italy.” A half-lie, as he only recently learned that Fortuna was off the coast of the county that Piombino resided in. Morrison looked to the two, to him, and then back to them. After a moment, he merely hummed.

“I see. Must’ve been a long trip from down there.” He looked up. “Certainly not the same weather as back home, I bet.” 

“I’ve become...acquainted with the weather.” Credo said, glancing up. Rain and clouds were very common. As soon as they experienced their first rainstorm, Credo endeavored to buy some second-hand coats for the two. Kyrie and Nero falling ill...he couldn’t let that happen. Morrison looked back to the two.

“So, what’s your names?” He asked. Kyrie and Nero looked up to Morrison. Kyrie curtsied to Morrison.

“My name is Kyrie.” She looked to Nero, who was regarding Morrison suspiciously. Nero glanced to Kyrie, who was giving him a pleading look, before he looked back to Morrison.

“Nero.” He said at last, just as suspicious of Morrison as he was with everyone who wasn’t named Kyrie or Credo (and Credo had to admit, Nero was starting to test his patience. He could understand, the stress of fleeing home would do that to anyone, and their future hinged on this interview going well). Morrison seemed amused at Nero’s suspicion. 

“Well, nice to meet you two.” He turned to the front door and walked up. “Just to let you know, one of Dante’s clients is staying as a...semi-permanent resident. She’s taken to redecorating the place.”

“Redecorating?” Credo asked, following him up. Dante was a new name, one he was determined to memorize. If that was one of his new superiors...well, it would do well to keep it in mind. 

“It’s only temporary, she’s about the same age as your kids.” Credo blinked.

“Does Dante have children of his own?” He asked. Morrison laughed.

“She might as well be, given how stubborn she is.” He said, voice full of amused mirth. Credo relaxed. “But she’s not that bad. Just…” He paused. “She’s something alright.” With that, he opened the door to let Credo, Kyrie, and Nero inside. 

Well. Redecorated seemed to be a very apt description of the place. Everywhere Credo looked, there were dolls and bows and plush animals. The windows had pink curtains with lace letting the outdoor light seep in gently. Hanging from the ceiling next to the ceiling fan (at least in no danger of being tangled up in it) were floating paper fish and mice. But, beyond the very...uh, cute decor, Credo could see the original occupant’s furnishings (this Dante’s furnishings). A pool table, a bar, some strange demon skull on the wall, a long couch against the left wall that was tucked under the green metal staircase, a jukebox, and an ornate desk. Sitting on the other side of the desk was a man in red and black, silver hair hanging limp on his head. The man glanced up, blue eyes meeting his gaze. Credo suddenly felt like he was being analyzed, as if he was a threat, and stiffened appropriately. 

“ _ Credo? _ ” Nero asked. It was in Italian, which told Credo that Nero wanted this little exchange for their ears only. Credo looked down. “ _ Do you think he’s my dad? _ ” 

“ _ I don’t know but let him make the first move. If all goes well, perhaps I can inquire sometime in the future. Will that be OK? _ ” Credo asked. Nero scowled at him. 

“ _ He looks like a slob. _ ” He said. Credo let out a sigh and looked back up to the man, meeting his gaze. It seemed that Nero’s presence also caught the white-haired man’s attention, an eyebrow raised. The analytical look in his eye was replaced, briefly, by melancholy before he looked over to Morrison. 

“Morrison, is this a client?” The man asked.

“No, this is Credo. He’s responding to that help wanted ad we put in the paper.” Morrison corrected. The man sighed and Credo got the distinct feeling that Morrison put in the ad, not the man who Credo was rapidly figuring out was Dante. He looked to Morrison for confirmation. “Credo, this is Dante.” 

“Dante, he looks like a hobo!” Came a shrill voice, a lance to his pride. Credo resisted the urge to flinch. He knew he wasn’t his best, hardly the knight he used to be, he heard worse-

“That was mean.” Kyrie said with a calm firmness, stepping out from Credo’s shadow. “You can’t call people names, you’ll hurt their feelings. Now apologize.” Credo was distinctly reminded of his mother, how she scolded them when they misbehaved. His eyes finally met the source of the voice, a girl with blond hair held up by a white headband and (as he predicted) looked about Kyrie and Nero’s ages. Dark blue eyes blinked owlishly at Kyrie, as if she wasn’t expected being scolded like a mother by a girl who would most likely be her peer. 

“Uh...sorry…” She said softly. 

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Credo.” Kyrie said firmly. Before the girl could do so, Credo heard an amused chuckle from the desk. He looked up to Dante. 

“Well, that’s a first. You shocked her enough to get her to shut up.” Dante said, lifting himself off the desk. The girl let out a frustrated grumble as Dante walked over to Morrison and Credo, the two men still keeping contact with each other. Dante glanced down to the kids. “More kids?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.    
  


“They’re mine.” Credo began, eyes narrowed on Dante. He hoped that, if he actually got the job, his future employer wasn’t going to be so difficult to work with. He got the feeling that Dante was stubborn and closed off. From the scent of stale pizza in the air, he wondered if he would be content just sitting behind that desk, eating pizza until he passed. He kept those thoughts to himself. “They won’t be a bother, I assure you.” 

“Look, you managed to shut up Patty, they’re alright in my book.” Dante said. Credo noticed his lingering gaze on Nero before he looked back up to meet Credo’s eyes. “The name’s Dante. Yours?”

“Credo Elesion.” 

“And the kids?”

“Nero and Kyrie.” Dante paused, glancing back at them before back up at Credo. He leaned back on his heel and crossed his arms.

“Nero, huh...well then, Credo. What brings you to Ironhaven?” 

“Work.” Not exactly a lie, but not a truth either. “I am the sole guardian of Nero and Kyrie but...circumstances at home bid me to seek employment elsewhere.”

“All the way up to this dump of a town.” Dante mused. “You got an old money name, why here?” 

“Dante, that’s not relevant to why we have the ad out.” Morrison interrupted. Dante held up his hands. “Credo, what skills do you have?” 

“I have an excellent mind for fiances. My father taught me how to run a business, albeit in hypotheticals, as my mother ran a bakery and I would have to inherit it someday.” All true, but with a tone of melancholy. All of that was gone. “I can also clean and cook, if it’s relevant.” 

“Cook!?” The girl piqued up. “That means you can get Dante to eat stuff that ISN’T pizza and sundaes! And I don’t have to bust my-” 

“Patty!” Dante called. The girl, Patty, stopped. “Don’t you have your soap in ten minutes?” 

“Oh no!” Patty shot down the stairs. “Morrison, we gotta go back!” Morrison laughed 

“Alright, alright, just sit in the car for five minutes, ok? I’ll go roll the window down.” Morrison said. “Gotta stick around for the interview and all. Ain’t the first five minutes just a recap of last time?” 

“That’s not the point Morrison!” Patty wailed as she darted out of the building. Morrison followed after her, leaving Credo and Dante alone. Dante let out a relieved exhale. 

"Finally, the shrill ringing in my ear stopped."

“She was a bit...much.” Kyrie piqued up diplomatically. 

“You try being around her all day.” Dante said but Credo noticed the lack of venom in his words. It seemed as if he was being just as diplomatic as her. 

“Sir?” Nero asked. Credo could tell he was copying Kyrie’s diplomacy, or at least trying. Kyrie was a good influence on him. “I saw a weird black owl around here. What’s that about?”

“That’s Ovid.” 

“You named him?” Nero made a face.

“Hey, he came with the place.” Dante said with a shrug. “Eats the rats, so he’s fine in my book.” Dante’s eyes moved to the guitar case on his back. “So, what’s in the case. I bet it ain’t a guitar.” Credo noticed a knowing look in his eye, as if he had done something similar before: hide a valuable weapon in a guitar case. Credo hesitated. He didn’t want to divulge his Durandal to a stranger but he couldn’t think up a story to be convincing enough to warrant him not showing it. He did notice the swords on the back wall earlier but thought of them as replica swords, edgeless and pretty on the wall. After a few moments, Morrison suddenly entered the shop. 

“Managed to keep the little miss calm with the promise of lunch.” He sighed. “Alright, any other questions? I think he’d be a good fit, heaven knows you need someone to keep an eye on your debts.”

“Yeah yeah.” Dante sighed. “Well, you’re hired.” Morrison seemed to be surprised at the sudden hiring. If he was being honest, Credo was surprised as well. At the same time, he was relieved at the sound. “You can handle the money. I’ll get the spare room cleaned out for you and your kids.” 

“Thank you, Dante. I can start immediately.” Credo wasn’t sure the last time he felt so much relief. Not only did he have a job, but Dante was completely willing to also house Nero and Kyrie. It seemed that luck was finally on his side. 

“Now hold on, what kinda spare room you talking about?” Morrison asked. “It ain’t the basement-”

“Nobody goes down there except me. I keep it locked for that reason. Nope, the spare room’s next to the kitchen. Not much bigger than your office.” 

“Hrmph, and my office is Grue’s Cellar.” Morrison mumbled. “Alright, guess you got the situation sorted. You better give Credo all those receipts!” 

“Yeah yeah.” Dante waved his hand as he walked away, going past a door. Credo let out the sigh of relief he didn’t realise he was holding. He heard a rustling and looked over to Morrison, watching as he pulled out a pair of what looked like small candies, wrapped in a bright red wrapper. It almost looked like a strawberry. 

“You two want some?” Morrison asked Kyrie and Nero. Kyrie stared at the candy while Nero, still suspicious of Morrison, shook his head.

“I was told not to take candy from strangers.” He said. Morrison laughed. 

“Smart kid.” 

“Nero, it’s OK.” Credo soothed. Nero seemed ready to argue when he saw Kyrie slowly take a candy. He relented, taking the other candy and placing it in his pocket. 

“Anyways, I’ll go take little miss Patty back home.” Morrison said, walking to the door. “Although, once she turns on the TV, she’ll yell at me that she’s been duped. And then come right back here to yell at Dante.”

“Is that a common occurrence?” Credo asked. Morrison paused, half-way out the door.

“You’ll find Dante and strange occurrences in the same sentence very often, Credo. Of course, it ain’t my business.” With that, he left the shop. Credo let out a soft hum, looking down to Nero and Kyrie.

“So...this is our new home then?” Kyrie asked softly.

“Yes, for the time being.” Credo smiled to them. Kyrie nodded. 

“Dante’s not that bad.” She said as she took Nero to the couch to sit patiently at. “Credo, you should help Dante clean out the room!” 

“He’s fine!” Dante yelled from the hallway. “Not much here anyway!” Kyrie giggled. Credo sat down and gave the two a side hug. Kyrie curled up against his side with a wide grin. Nero frowned at being hugged but didn’t pull away. And that was good enough for Credo.

  
_ ‘I would give my life to protect my children, and now this establishment and you, Dante. I will not forget this kindness.’  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason I put Credo down as Devil May Cry's financial manager is that Morrison, from what I've witnessed of him, handles information (which can include land deeds and debt tracking) but Morrison isn't directly involved in Devil May Cry's finances. At the bare minimum, as seen in 5, he sends payment to whoever handles the bills but beyond that, I never got the vibe he was as much of a financial manager as Credo will be.  
> Also Morrison's DMC5 design is better than the animated series design. I will not be taking comments about it.   
> Now here's the question: Did Dante hire Credo because he actually believed he needed a financial manager, because of Nero, or because he thought Credo was cute? You decide!


	3. Huntresses Three

Credo quietly hummed as he sorted through Dante’s dozen or so pizza orders. Next to him was a book, numbers written down. One of the first things he learned about his new superior was that he had an insatiable appetite for pizza and strawberry sundaes. How one could live on pizza and sundaes alone? It was almost as bad as the days he, Nero, and Kyrie had to subsist on subpar fast food. That wasn’t even counting the monetary cost, and Dante was lucky this place was afloat, much less having electricity and running water. Speaking of Dante, he was off in Capulet City, on the coast of the county he just learned the name of: Everwinter County. Something about getting involved with a disapproving father, a young woman, and an alleged demon. Frankly, it only became his business when money was involved as the new financial manager for Devil May Cry. Nero and Kyrie were off with Patty and her guardian (also named Patty, for some reason?), as Patty was insistent that Nero and Kyrie come with them to the local mall (and that she’d take care of everything). If he was being honest, he liked the quiet. Nero had a dozen and a half questions about Dante, he couldn’t answer any of them and Dante only gave one-word answers for them, hardly satisfying answers for the ten year old. 

As for Patty and the little day trip she threw on Nero and Kyrie...given her extravagant sense of taste when he first arrived, he found himself not too surprised at that offer coming from her.

The door suddenly opened. “Hey Dante!” A woman’s voice yelled. Credo glanced up, nerves on edge as a woman with black hair entered the building. Her dress was...more revealing than he was used to (he still never quite got mainland fashions). A short skirt, shorts underneath that, brown boots that went up to her knee, a button-up crop top, and buttoned sleeves. A simple red necklace was around her neck. He noticed, immediately, mismatched eyes and the scars that littered her skin, a skilled mercenary if he had to guess. Something about her made his infernal heart regard her warily, a faint sort of magic she had on her person, but she looked as normal as any other human. Immediately, she whipped to him, eyes narrowed at him in suspicion. “Who are you?”

“My name is Credo.” Credo began, carefully neutral. She seemed, for the lack of a better word, aggressive. “I am the recently hired financial manager of Devil May Cry.” The narrowed look didn’t relent, so Credo looked to the old phone on the desk. “If you do not believe me, you can call Morrison to confirm it.” 

“Why would Dante want a finances guy?” The woman asked with a huff. 

“From what I gathered, it was Morrison who wanted one for Devil May Cry. Dante just let me stay, so here I am.” Credo said, writing down another receipt cost. “And you are?” 

“The name’s Lady. Dante didn’t tell me about you.” The newly named Lady crossed her arms. “He didn’t mention anything about a new guy and Dante’s not the type to hire a money manager.” 

“Whatever his reasons, I am here to stay.” Credo said. “And unless you have any other receipts to hand me regarding the fiances of Devil May Cry or a message to pass onto Dante, I’m afraid you have no reason to meander here.” Lady mulled over this before walking over to Credo, flopping down on the worn couch next to him. 

“Well, let’s get started on that.” She sighed, crossing her legs and giving Credo a confident grin. “Dante owes me.” And immediately, Credo got the sense that he was going to have a long day. 

* * *

Credo mulled around in his new office, finally complete. Two nice chairs (nice for being second hand), some file cabinets, a desk, and a table behind it. He had placed his Durandal on the table for display (or so he had told Dante). Dante had noticed the Durandal, he could see the gears turning in his head, before walking out of the room. The thin walls of the building were something he once thought as a bane but, given how easy he could hear any of Dante’s negotiations from the other side of the wall, he quickly wrote it up as a boon. 

Now, from the sounds of it, Dante had just left the office in a huff. He had just heard another woman’s voice, most certainly not Lady, by tone and sound and the lack of pestering him about his debts like a loan shark. It was too...grown to sound like Patty either. A client, perhaps? But he heard no talk of money, so it was either something organized earlier or charity work (and he knew Dante cared, despite his ‘I don’t care’ exterior). The thought also crossed his head that it was another huntress, another ally of Dante. Dante had an interesting idea about friends (or his lack thereof, according to him. Given what Credo knew about Lady, he wondered how much of that was true). 

“Style, huh?” The voice continued. “Yeah, this is totally Patty’s style. Too bad about the prices though.” 

“What do you mean too bad about the prices!?” Patty wailed. “Credo thinks they’re fine!” Oh, now he had to step out and stop her before she buried him in a metaphorical ditch.

“Who?” The voice asked as Credo stepped out of the office and down the hall. Patty was about to answer when Credo entered the main office. 

“That would be me. And I certainly did not say they were fine.” Credo said. Patty crossed her arms with a grumble. He glanced over to the other, a woman in white and gold. For a brief moment, panic made him freeze until he quickly realized two things.

One: He had never seen her in Fortuna. And he knew that from the second thing he realized: Her outfit would be the grandest social faux pas the island would have ever seen. 

Her dress went to her knees, the gold a gradient from the hem to the hip. The rest was white, save for the golden trim. He could garner that it was leather but how she kept the white so pristine was a mystery. Her white jacket had a dark green gem for a clasp, the same color as her eyes. Blonde hair hung in a short crop, fluffy and similar to Lady’s if it was swept forward instead of to the side. There was something about her that he couldn’t pin down, something...holy about her, something that cowed his demonic blood. 

“Credo, huh…” She murmured. “I’m Cassandra Sagefire. I’m one of Dante’s friends.” She held out her hand to shake. Credo took her hand to shake. The moment her hand met his, he felt a stinging sensation, like his palm was holding pins and needles. As much as he instinctively wanted to pull away, he couldn’t without possibly offending her (or revealing his own demon blood, his own guarded secret). She let go first. “What keeps you around here?”

“I manage the finances for Devil May Cry.”

“A manager? But Dante...oooh.” Cassandra chuckled. “I get it, Morrison put you here and Dante actually agreed to keep you around. Explains why the spare bedroom is suddenly occupied.” She paused. “Wait, they’re your kids?” 

“Yes, why?” 

“Because, last I checked, Dante didn’t adopt two new wards. Patty’s rough enough on him anyway.”

“Hey!” Patty squawked. Cassandra laughed and ruffled her blonde hair. 

“I’m joking, you little firecracker.” She teased. Patty let out a grumble. “Anyways, I guess Dante got you a nice little office here if your kids are sleeping upstairs in the spare bedroom. Probably one of the safest spots in this place, in my opinion.” 

“He cleared out a spare room for me.” Credo stated. Cassandra raised an eyebrow in interest. The man turned, heading back into the hallway with the huntress following him. He turned into his office, letting Cassandra poke her head inside.

“Ooh, that’s an office alright.” She said, scanning the room as she entered. “And that…” She looked to the Durandal. “Well, that ain’t no ordinary sword, ain’t it?” Credo was quiet for a moment, thinking of a story to hide the Durandal’s true identity as a weapon of death, of slaying demons. 

“It’s my father’s sword, passed down to me. He claimed that he briefly served as a mercenary fighting demons. When he settled down, he put the sword on the mantle and told me all the stories of fighting demons.” Credo looked up at Cassandra. “Of course, I didn’t believe him. But it was important to my father so I kept it. I would not let it end up in a scrap heap.” 

“Cute story.” Cassandra smirked, running a hand along the straight edge. Credo scowled at her. “Hey, I can appreciate a good-looking sword. And I know you’re fibbing.” Credo’s scowl disappeared, replaced by fear. “Your father had to have been a Fortunan Officer to have a Durandal. This thing doesn’t fall into the hands of mercenaries.” She looked back to him and the smirk suddenly disappeared. “Hey, whatever your reasons for leaving Fortuna, I’m gonna keep my mouth shut. It ain’t my place to tell. And besides…” She walked away from the sword, to the door, passing by the frozen Credo. “I’m a runaway too. It ain’t easy, running away from home. Whatever your reason...I have no doubt that it continues to drive you forward, even now.” 

When she left the room, Credo let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

* * *

Patty was in a new dress. 

Normally, Credo wouldn’t have noticed. However, he recognized this dress was something from that magazine Patty was begging Dante to get something from. Dante had said no and he had agreed with him. Now, with Patty twirling in a bright pink dress with lace on the edges, he wondered who exactly bought the dress...and with whose money. Before he could ask, he heard footsteps behind him, immediately followed by a demonic presence. He whipped around, watching as a woman in black skintight leather walked out of the hallway. His demonic heart recoiled at the sight and, had he less control over it, he was certain he would hiss. She picked up a bag from the desk and began to walk past him, only to pause and turn to him. Blonde hair flowed behind her. Her green eyes were familiar and Credo briefly wondered if this huntress bore any relation to Cassandra (before he immediately dismissed it).

“Haven’t seen you around here.” 

“I believe we have not met.” Credo began carefully. “I now manage the finances for Devil May Cry. My name is Credo.”

“Money guy, huh...about time.” The woman hummed. “Dante’s terrible with money.” She smiled at him. “The name’s Trish.” 

“You wouldn’t happen to know who got Patty her newest dress? Because it’s not Dante and I certainly didn’t voice my approval in the matter.” Credo asked, narrowing his eyes a little at Trish. Trish let out a sigh. 

“Lady and I did.” 

“With whose money?” Trish blinked before sighing. 

“Dante’s of course.” Credo crossed his arms. Well, it was too late to return the clothes, as he had no idea where they came from. 

“I see.” He grumbled. “I will only let this slide for now, as it seems nobody saw fit to let you know of my employment.” 

“Aww, how sweet.” Trish cooed. Credo scowled at that. 

“For now.” He emphasized. He wasn’t going to let anyone walk over him, not like the Order walked over him. Trish nodded. 

“Noted. You’ll be getting the bill soon enough. Lady and I got a job outside of town.” Trish said as she made her way to the door. Credo followed to the door, watching as Trish made her way to Lady (in a new suit, he noticed) on her motorcycle. The two drove off after a brief conversation. Credo was about to close the door when someone held it open. He glanced over to see a woman, obviously older, with clothes a bit too nice to be local to the area. 

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Dante?” She asked. 

“I manage his finances, if that means anything.” Credo said firmly. The woman frowned before handing a receipt to him. Credo’s eyes scanned the receipt-

Savior’s mercy, How could two women and a child spend THAT MUCH on clothes?! No wonder Dante was in debt! Credo let out a frustrated sigh, causing the woman to tilt his head. 

“Come inside, we have much to talk about.” He said at last, letting her inside. “Tea or coffee?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credo has to meet the other ladies of Devil May Cry at some point. So here they are.  
> Cassandra is my OC for DMC. Her relationship with Dante is 'the little sister who can totally kick ass'.


	4. A Knight's Oath

Credo quietly worked in his office, the new clock on the wall (new, once again, being subjective. Most of his own purchases came from the charity shops in the area. All that needed to be done with them is a little bit of repair) showing the time as 11:01pm. Ever since his arrival, he had done the duty he was hired to do: keep the shop in the green, to pay the electric and water bills, and make sure Dante wasn’t drowning in debt. Thankfully, now with Lady and Trish no longer fleecing Dante of his money (although he heard from Cassandra that the two were skilled in the field, he had to be honest with himself: He didn’t trust Lady and Trish with Dante’s money. They did keep their word or perhaps they knew he would scrutinize their every purchase with Dante’s money), Devil May Cry was actually making a profit during some months. Only recently did he finally manage to pay off their little shopping excursion in some fancy boutique in the neighboring Capulet City (and thus, he was certain he would never understand fashion, especially at those prices). 

The times it wasn’t? He blamed that solely on Dante. His mood for jobs came and went, depending on the options available. Sometimes, Morrison had to urge him to take a job (or force him to go with a very curt reminder of his debts, a process that Credo’s presence was helping with). Dante could get surly at times (and Savior help him, Dante could test a man’s patience) but he was nice enough to Nero and Kyrie. Perhaps from the fact that they were permanent residents compared to Patty but he could tell that Dante did like Patty, in his own way. 

He heard the door open and perked up. Dante was still out with Morrison, perhaps it was Lady? He heard the sound of footsteps, a faint murmuring that he knew wasn’t Lady. There was the sound of drawers being rustled open, in a panic, which immediately caught Credo’s suspicion. He slowly pushed the chair back, ever aware of the thin walls, reaching over for his Durandal- 

“CREEEDOO!” Kyrie’s scream made him jump, followed by Nero yelling out his sister’s name. He grabbed the Durandal and darted out of his office and down the hall. When he burst through the door, he quickly found the offending person: a man with a stupidly exposed v-cut shirt and pants. Nero was in front of Kyrie, a metal bat in his hand (something from Cassandra, since he wanted to be trained in self defense and she was a very willing teacher). The intruder let out a startled yelp, leapt over the desk with it’s drawers left ajar, and ran to the door, only to find it locked. Credo rushed forward, ready for the kill. The man let out a scream and rolled out of the way, not quite quick enough for Credo’s Durandal as it sliced into his arm. The man yelped in pain as he stumbled back into the wall behind him, holding his now bleeding arm. Credo whipped around, the pointed end of the Durandal just inches from the intruder. He stared down at the whimpering man, back pressed against the wall, hand on his bleeding arm, and the scent of urine in the air. As he stared, nose scrunched from the smell, he realized that this man was no more than a regular human. An idiot, if he was being honest with himself, but just a human who clearly regretted breaking in. 

“If you seek wealth, you will find none here.” Credo began carefully. “If I had less restraint, you would be dead.” He ignored the man’s yelp of ‘LESS RESTRAINT!?’ “All you have done is frighten my sister and made a fool of yourself.”

“Look, I just want some dirt on Dante-”

“You are in no position to demand anything, much less from me.” Credo growled. Already, the scent of blood was getting to his demonic side, who wanted more. He tightened his grip on the Durandal. “Now go. And don’t come back.” Credo slowly lowered his blade. The man stared at him before scrambling away from him and out the door, into the night. Credo slowly knelt down, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. His mind drifted to a time well before he fled Fortuna, a kinder time...

_“And again!” His captain yelled. “You’re doing great Elesion!” Credo let out a soft pant, eyes focused on his sparring partner. The two fought hard, Caliburns straining against each other. His partner was obviously exhausted, looking for an easy way out of his sparring, but Credo was not giving him that. He always took sparring seriously, much to the chagrin of his fellow knights-in-training. A warm breeze wafted through the courtyard from the sea._

_“Credo!” His captain yelled. Credo looked up to the beaming face of Captain Sharena Alagona, her blond hair tied up at the end. “Come on, spar with me instead. Let that poor knight take a breather.”_

_“Very well.” Credo said, letting his partner stumble off to a bench. Captain Alagona walked over to replace the knight, pulling out her Durandal._

_“Ready...and...begin!” Captain Alagona charged forward, only to be parried by Credo. The two crossed blades, their spar garnering the attention of the others. They snuck off away from the courtyard, leaving the two to brawl as they pleased. Credo didn’t notice, too focused on the duel at hand. Captain Alagona smirked at the results she was seeing. “And this is why you’re my favorite knight in training, Credo!”_

_“Do not speak falsehoods to distract me.” Credo growled._

_“Who said I was lying?!” Captain Alagona gasped as she deflected another swing. “Come on, I’m serious! You’re leagues above the rest.” She tried to deflect the swing once more, only for her Durandal to fly out of her hands. She held up her hands. “See?” She asked the heaving Credo. He slowly lowered his Caliburn, wiping his brow of sweat with his sleeve._

_“I want to be recognized for my merit, captain. Not because I was favored for my family name.”_

_“Oh Credo…” Captain Alagona sighed, walking over to pick up her Durandal. “You’re going to be a wonderful knight someday, not just because you’re Enrico’s son. You got the tenants down pat.” Credo let out a sigh. He knew the tenants too well, they were drilled into him not only from his father, but by the Order as well._

_“The law is paramount. My word is my bond. I must be willing to do what needs to be done for the sake of order, even in the face of overwhelming odds-”_

_“And you must deal with the consequences of your actions. I know. You know. You can memorize them better than half the knights that end up here.” Captain Alagona laughed. “But they’re more than pretty words, Credo. They hold Fortuna together, even with the demons that come and attack from Mitis Forest. We are the knights that protect those who cannot. That’s why we vow ourselves to the Order of the Sword. You know this, right?”_

_“Of course.” Credo nodded. Captain Alagona seemed to beam at that._

_“Good. But…” Her smile faltered. “Sometimes, you need to do what’s right over what’s good for the Order.”_

_“What are you talking about?” Credo asked, blinking in confusion._

_“I…” She leaned back on her heel. “I’m pretty optimistic about things but...there’s something about His Holiness that’s bugging me. Dangerous rituals, more demons from the forest, something’s up. And you have a strong will, Credo. You’ll be a great knight someday, I know it, Enrico knows it but I’m certain your father wouldn’t want you to blindly lay your life down for the Order. I don’t either.”_

_“Are you suggesting I defect?”_

_“Well, not exactly. I want you to think for yourself, not just blindly follow His Holiness. There may come a time where you’ll be forced to make hard decisions. Sometimes, you’ll have to be selfish, because it’s too dangerous to be selfless. There’s nothing wrong with being selfish Credo. Savior knows I’ve been selfish before.”_

_“I don’t understand, Captain.” Credo said. Captain Alagona smiled at him, bittersweet in the sun._

_“You’ll understand someday, Credo. I hope you’ll understand before it’s too late.” She reached over, squeezing Credo’s shoulder. “You’ll be a great knight. No matter where your path leads you.”_

_‘Where my path leads me…’_

_Then the memory changed. It was no longer the warm courtyard of the Order Headquarters, but a dull dreary funeral. Sobbing into his side was his little sister, Credo having spent all of his tears already. His hand could only stroke her hair, watching numbly as the dirt was filled in. He looked up to the stone headstones of his parents. Just beyond them, the headstone of Captain Alagona, slain by demons in Mitis Forest. How could he endure so much tragedy in so short of a time? Was that why he felt so numb? The words of His Holiness were nothing more than a buzz in the back of his head, each shovelful of dirt landing on the coffins ringing more strongly than whatever he could say._

_Captain Alagona must have had reason to tell him what she told him that day, before her demise in Mitis Forest. All of this death, could it have been avoided? If he hadn’t been with Kyrie that evening, before the bakery was attacked, could he have saved his parents? Would he die with them, leaving his sister an orphan? The thought, he couldn’t bear it._

_So what would it be, he wondered, as the last of the dirt landed on the plot: his family, his sister and Nero, or the Order?_

“Credo…?” Credo snapped up, seeing his shaking sister on the stairs. He slowly got up and walked over to her, his Durandal clattering on the ground. Kyrie wrapped her arms around him, Credo reciprocating the hug.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve confronted the intruder earlier.” He murmured, giving her a squeeze. “Are you OK? Did he hurt you?” 

“I-I’m fine. Just spooked.” Kyrie murmured. “I wanted some water and I saw the robber and-”

“Shh...it’s ok. I’m here. I’ll make sure the building gets locked up properly, OK?” Kyrie nodded at that. Credo slowly stood up, only to hear the door open again. He whipped around, half a mind to charge but he only saw Lady at the door. He let out a sigh of relief. 

“What the hell happened here!?” Lady snapped. 

“An intruder. But considering he was no threat, I let him go.” Credo explained. “He claimed to be searching for ‘dirt’ but considering the fact that Dante didn’t go to the local park-”

“No Credo, he was looking for shit to rat Dante out. But he didn’t find any?”

“No. He startled my sister and I confronted him. But he had no weapon on him so I let him go.” Credo explained. Lady crossed her arms.

“Patty said someone was skulking around the place...she said she scared him off but…” Lady leaned onto her side. “I’ll tell Dante about this.”

“Lock the door behind you, if you’re leaving.” Credo said, standing up to retake the Durandal. He glanced to the blade’s edge, stained with blood. Lady looked at it.

“The guy’s not…”

“No, he still lives yet. His arm was merely cut.” A rather light way to explain it, that wound would need a few bandages to cover it, but it was better than death. Lady closed the door behind her, leaving the shop. Credo went to lock the front door, for Kyrie’s peace of mind. 

“You think he’s going to stay away?” Nero asked from his place atop the stairs. 

“I believe so. He seemed to be no more than a fool. But even fools can learn lessons.” Credo said. “And I know Dante will take care of things from here. For now, I believe you two should head to bed.” 

“But what if he comes back!” Nero demanded. 

“Then I will be at the door protecting you. Like the knight I am.” He smiled a little at Nero. It seemed to soothe him for now. Credo gently guided Kyrie up the stairs and to the bedroom the two lived in. Kyrie gently pulled Nero inside the bedroom. Credo closed the door and sat down, leaning on the Durandal with his eyes to the front door. Through the door, he faintly heard Kyrie bid him a good night. He smiled a little as he heard the two settle into bed. 

The ever dutiful knight remained at watch for the rest of the night, just to let his sister and his ward rest easy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I kinda sorta unironically love In Private. I also call it the 'Dante's a hecking cryptid' episode because, you know, silently following people around is cryptid behavior. Even to an unfeasible desert.  
> Also, surprise NPC! Too bad she's dead. Unfortunate.


	5. Fearlessness or Recklessness

“Come at me Nero!” Cassandra goaded. Nero scowled at her, ass on the ground and a frustrated look on his face. “Come on, I know you’re not done yet.” 

“I can still fight!” The ten year old boy growled as he got up, using the practice sword as leverage to stand. 

“Can you now?” Cassandra asked with a smirk. “Because-” She didn’t get a chance to continue as Nero charged at her. She held up her silver and blue rapier, a weapon that made Credo uncomfortable looking at, to deflect the charge. “There we go! Come at me!” 

Credo was watching the two, all four of them on the flat roof of Devil May Cry. It had enough room for Cassandra to teach Nero how to fight. As for Credo himself, he was quietly watching the two between writing down the most recent expenses that Devil May Cry incurred. By his side, Kyrie was watching the two spar with wide eyes. Between handling the finances, going on grocery trips to make food that wasn’t pizza and sundaes (not only for Dante, but for Nero and Kyrie), and the occasional odd job he also took (mostly as a security guard), he didn’t have the time to temper Nero’s choleric personality with sparring like he used to. However, Cassandra offered to let him let out his frustrations in training him how to use a sword. Credo used to do so himself and a part of him felt guilty for not spending more time with Nero and Kyrie. Kyrie understood but there was only so much she could do for Nero. 

“Oomf!” Credo snapped up, watching as Cassandra was flung back a little from a fierce kick to her midsection. “Now that’s...that’s real damn dirty!” She laughed, spitting out blood. “That’s gonna bruise...damn.” 

“I win!” Nero said proudly. 

“For now. I’m still up one!” 

“No you’re not!” Nero argued. Cassandra only laughed as she stood, dismissing the divine rapier. She walked over to the small cooler and pulled out a water bottle, uncapping it to take a long drink. Kyrie grabbed a bottle of water and ran over to Nero, his wounds already healing from the spar. Downing half the bottle, she flopped down next to Credo. 

“Man, that kid’s gonna go far.” She panted. 

“I would rather not have him live a life of fighting demons.” Credo replied. Cassandra shrugged.

“Ain’t our choice. The best we can do is give him the tools he needs to face life.” She said. “You know he’s related to Dante, right?”

“Yes. And so does Nero. But I don’t know how to broach the topic to Dante.” Credo admitted. Cassandra let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair. 

“It’s gonna get broached at some point.” She said. “Whether Nero spits it out or you let Dante know gently, someone has to break the ice.” She took another swig of water. “If it means anything, I don’t think the connection is that close as you think.” 

“What makes you say that?” Credo asked, glancing at her suspiciously. Cassandra let out a sigh. 

“Dante and I have been associates since I was nineteen. He’s a year older than me. In the nine years and counting that I’ve known him, he never visited Fortuna once. Hell, I don’t think he knows what Fortuna is aside from it being a Latin term for fortune.” She said.

“So...you don’t believe Dante is Nero’s father?”

“Nope. But there is a connection. Maybe uncle? But I’m not going to ask Dante. That’s for you to ask him, when he comes back from his job.” Cassandra said. Credo nodded, remembering the woman who came into the shop asking for Dante to clear her older sibling’s name. She had offered a valuable ring, a pretty penny if sold to the right buyer, as payment. Credo disliked the exchange, sensing something off about the client, especially how she disappeared right after giving Dante the ring. Since then, Dante hadn’t been heard from since. Credo wondered how the job was going, if even Lady was called in to help. 

Cassandra leaned over to the edge of the shop’s roof. “Speaking of Dante, he’s coming back right now.” Credo got up from his chair and walked over to the edge of the roof, watching as Dante walked to the shop. It seemed he was no worse for wear, much to Credo’s relief. He went to pick up his book and went to the roof access ladder to head down to meet Dante. 

When he arrived in the main office, Dante was settling himself on his desk, feet on the wood like it was an ordinary Tuesday. Credo heard Cassandra, Nero, and Kyrie coming into the hallway behind him. He stepped aside, letting the trio walk by him. 

“Hey Dante, how was the mission?” Cassandra asked. 

“Eh, it was fine.” Dante shrugged, flopping a magazine on his face. “Too bad about the pay though.” 

“Let me guess, the ring wasn’t worth much in reality.” Credo said. 

“Nah. I gave it back to her brother. He thought she hated him so…” He waved his hand. 

“And there’s that heart of gold you claim you don’t have.” Cassandra laughed. 

“Shuddup.” Dante groaned. Cassandra looked to Nero and Kyrie. 

“Hey, how does ice cream sound? You did good today Nero.” 

  
“Dante owes me ice cream.” Kyrie said. Dante let out a grumble, sliding into his coat pocket to pull out a ten. Kyrie went over to take the crisp bill. “Thank you Mister Dante!” 

“At least you say please and thank you, compared to someone I know.” 

“If Patty was here, your face would be getting acquainted with the end of her broom.” Cassandra pointed. Dante shrugged, tossing the magazine onto the desk. 

“Good thing she ain’t.”

“Come on, I know you’re secretly fond of her. She brings a much needed energy to the place!” Cassandra teased. 

“You won’t hear it from me.” Dante replied. Cassandra sighed and looked back to Nero and Kyrie.

“Come on, let’s go get that ice cream.” She said with a wide grin as she ushered the two out of Devil May Cry. As she ushered them out, the door opened to reveal Morrison. “Oh, hi! We’re just going off to get ice cream, Dante’s being lazy as usual.” She said cheerfully. Morrison tipped his hat to her as they left the shop. He turned to Dante and Credo as he approached the desk. 

“Lemme guess, you’re gonna grill me for giving up that ring for a happy ending.” Dante said, reaching over for the magazine.

“I would, if I didn’t have this.” Morrison pulled out a thick envelope and tossed it onto the desk. Dante blinked at the envelope, clearly not expecting that. Credo leaned over, noticing a certain weight to it. Whatever was inside was a sizable amount of cash. “That’s from the community, Woolford, for clearing out Devil’s Prison.” Morrison explained. “Apparently, the populace was terrified shitless of the place. But they don’t have to worry about being demon food anymore.” The mention of a prison made Credo’s eyes widened. He whipped to Dante, who was opening up the envelope. “After Lady and I took our cut.” 

“Yeah yeah.” Dante grumbled as he began to count out the money. 

“What’s this about a prison?” Credo asked, struggling to control his concerned anger. “Dante, what happened?” 

“Well, Devil’s Prison is, no,  _ was _ an inescapable prison.” Credo hated the smirk on his face as he counted the money. “Broke out, took out the warden and his goons, and cleared an innocent man’s name. All in a day’s work-” 

“And what if it wasn’t a demon’s nest?” Credo narrowed his eyes at him. “What then?” 

“Relax, angelface. If it wasn’t a demon’s nest, I would’ve known. But then again, the warden was a creep.” 

“Being a creep, although deplorable, isn’t a reason to murder.” Credo said stiffly, pointedly ignoring the attempt to butter him up. “What if you were wrong? I don’t want the law or unwanted attention at our doorstep. Not to mention, you would’ve set a bad example for Nero, Kyrie, and Patty.” 

“A bad example for Patty? Tch, she IS the bad example.” Dante scoffed.

“That’s not the point Dante!” Credo snarled. “Honestly, I can’t tell if you’re fearless or reckless.” 

“Look, nobody got hurt. Just a little bit of property damage.” Dante finished counting the money and placed it all back in the envelope, minus a pair of twenties. He handed the envelope to Credo. “Devil’s Prison is probably just a pile of demon goop right now, since demon-made illusions die on their death.” Credo made a face at the thought. “But that’s not my problem.” 

“You do realize Nero looks up to you. He sees you as a father figure.” He said carefully. Dante shot him a look and Credo, for a brief moment, could feel something settle in the room. Melancholy, perhaps? Guilt? Credo couldn’t pin what it was about that sentence that got that reaction. Finally, Dante let out a sigh and stood up. 

“I’m gonna need more whisky.” 

Credo scowled at that reaction. What he had hoped for, Dante to acknowledge Nero as his, and what he got...well, it told him enough: Either Dante wasn’t ready to acknowledge Nero as his relative or Dante wasn’t even related to Nero to begin with. And given how similar Nero and Dante looked, how even one of Dante’s own allies believed that Dante and Nero were related, that second part he wasn’t buying in the slightest. 

* * *

Credo hated everything right now.

The ship, the  _ Paradisio _ , too blindingly luxurious for his own tastes, the obscene amount of gambling, all pleasure and no work, was the product of his worst nightmares. He hated watching those with more money than free time waste it all. His parents had worked hard for what they had, small but cozy, and they were dead, no thanks to the Order. He sacrificed so much for Kyrie and Nero. Despite that finally turning around, with the two able to have fun like normal children should in the late days of July, he still hated this ship, for a far deeper reason than all the opulence and the gambling.

It reminded him too much of the Order. The upper ranks of the Order had opulent parties, just like he was seeing here, and he never liked them. His father told him all about them and admitted that he found those parties awkward compared to the lifestyle the Savior preached: kindness, humility, and compassion. The dissonance was startling and they were either willingly or unwillingly blind to it. 

The sooner he got off this infernal ship, the better.

“You look like you need a drink.” Morrison said, trying to be helpful. Credo sighed and looked at him. The two were dressed up, Credo in a second-hand cream suit, Morrison in a suit of his own, for the  _ Paradisio _ . Credo glanced to his lapel pin, of three lances on a shield, the crest of House Elesion, before looking back across the blinding lights of the casino room. 

“I must respectfully decline. A demon lurks on this ship and I would rather have all my wits about me.” The demon, only by the name of King, seemed to lure those who liked to risk it all in poker. Dante was hired by a strange woman, a woman that made Credo’s nerves stand on edge, who claimed her husband was on the ship and partaking in a dangerous poker tournament. Dante, of course, had signed up despite the long-standing fact that he rarely won in poker, even against Kyrie! Dante was lucky Kyrie was more interested in the game than getting wins, seeing no worth in the plastic chips. Credo didn’t particularly like the fact that Kyrie was learning these types of card games, card games that encouraged one to gamble, but Dante liked having her around as someone to just play card games with, even if they were things like poker and blackjack and...well, what kind of man would he be if he took that from him? He looked back to Morrison, to the guitar case containing Dante’s Rebellion (that sword had such a familiar aura...but where was it from?) and Ebony and Ivory, his twin guns. Credo had his own case, containing his Durandal and a spare set of clothes (where there were demons, there was blood, and he knew getting blood out of a white cream suit was going to take far too long compared to just changing clothes). 

“Good point.” Morrison nodded in agreement. “You just look like you hate it here. Even Dante commented that you looked like a sourpuss.”

“Even if I’m only on this ship for three days, it does not change the fact that I...dislike it.” Credo replied, ever diplomatic. The cruise was a three-day affair, parting from Red Grave City, up the river, before docking at Capulet City. Since the only point of the cruise was to gamble, to dine in opulence for three days, there were no other ports to dock at in the itinerary. Credo was no stranger to sailing and he was proud to say that he never got sea sick. He remembered Dante making a face as they passed through Red Grave City to reach the city’s port, where the  _ Paradisio _ was docked. Lady had already gotten on the ship, it was her that got him and Morrison the tickets they needed to board. Dante was already given a ticket by the client so his passage was secured.

“I understand. Not everyone likes to gamble.” 

“The waste is what sickens me.” Credo said, his hand briefly tightening into a fist. Morrison merely sighed. “My apologies.”

“Don’t be. I’m not a big fan of this place either. Too snobby for my tastes.” Morrison said. “Let’s go, the hall’s this way.” With that, Morrison began to lead the way. Credo followed him. 

“If it comes to, know that I will protect you as best I can.” 

“Ain’t got no doubt about that. Little miss Kyrie told me all about how you defended the shop from an intruder.” Morrison chuckled. 

“Only in the strictest of terms. He was easily chased off. If he had actual intent to steal, I would imagine he’d put up more of a fight.” Credo smiled faintly, his cheeks darkening from the compliment. “There are quite a few items in Dante’s shop that are worth something. I imagine more is in the basement but it’s the only room that’s locked consistently so what lays inside is unknown to me.” Credo didn’t dare mention the overwhelming demonic presence on the other side of the door. Whatever was in the basement, he wondered if he would ever find the courage to ask. He followed Morrison down the hall, towards the room where Dante was to risk it all in. He was thankful Lady was there as well, playing as a card dealer (and he knew that Lady was skilled in poker as well, given how her and Kyrie had close games of poker. Kyrie seemed to be adverse to the idea of gambling...but she didn’t have much qualms on betted outcomes). If Lady was there as well, armed as she always was, then what did he have to worry?

As the two entered the room in question, a room named The Glimmering Hall for it’s exquisite view of the ocean, floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows, and water feature on the far wall, Credo was hit with a too-strong demonic presence. His demonic heart seethed at the demonic energy that permeated the room. He passed a glance to Lady, who briefly bobbed her head to Credo. It seemed that even she could sense the demonic energy. Credo scanned the room. At the far end was Dante, who’s eyes briefly flickered to Credo’s. Next to Dante, a socialite who looked like she was scheming her next victory. Next to her, an older gentleman who seemed nice enough (too nice, like someone Credo once knew before everything shattered). Next to him, an out of place looking man who Credo presumed was the client’s husband, the one who hired Dante to get on the  _ Paradisio _ in the first place to save him. And finally, a sleazy-looking business tycoon, with a sneer that was too familiar for Credo’s taste. Credo scanned the other players, his frown deepening. With the demonic energy saturating the room, he couldn’t figure out which one of the other players was this mysterious demon. All he could tell was the greed that lurked in their eyes, their only thoughts about all the wealth they would receive if they played just one more game of poker.

Morrison sat down, setting the guitar case against the couch in the corner of the room. Credo did the same, leaning back against plush maroon seating. Despite how soft the couch was, he didn’t feel particularly relaxed. His eyes were entirely focused on the game happening a few paces away. His eyes flicked to the stained glass, depicting angels carrying coins and jewels in their arms, cascading down like a river. 

At least it was appropriate thematically to the ship’s very name. He still hated it. 

He looked back to the table, leaning forward a little. The husband’s body language indicated not only was he uncomfortable with being in this situation, he had no confidence in the cards he had or his chances (or was it the obvious sleep deprivation talking for him?). The elderly gentleman seemed more confident in his situation while the socialite was as impassive as ever (something they called a poker face, so he learned). 

“Hey, have any of you heard of a gambler known as King?” The tycoon asked. Credo raised an eyebrow. That was the name of the demon that was lurking around this very ship! But it seemed that only him, Dante, Morrison, and Lady knew about this little factoid. 

“I have. Supposedly, he’s a gambler from Hell who takes the lives of his opponents.” The socialite said casually. 

“What!?” The elderly gentleman gasped. “That’s just rumors, demons and the like don’t exist!” He laughed before taking a swig of his scotch.

_ ‘If only you knew…’ _ Credo thought.  _ ‘But you’re lucky, you don’t have to worry about demons coming after you in the dead of night. Or those under your own skin.’ _

“Demon or not.” The tycoon continued. “It is true that a whole host of gamblers died after losing to King. Some say he’s a white-bearded elderly man. Others say King’s actually a charming beautiful woman. But the truth is, nobody knows who King truly looks like.” Credo could tell he was trying to rile up the suspicions of the other gamblers. It seemed that only the husband was actually shaken up by the conversation, the others either weren’t or acted like they weren’t. “Anyways, if King really is among us, if I beat him, my reputation will soar amongst gamblers!” 

“How short sighted…” Credo murmured, glancing at Morrison. He shrugged. Credo leaned back, eyes still on the table as their game continued. “There’s more to life than gambling your life savings away.” 

“Not to them.” Morrison muttered, seeming just as disdainful of the gamblers as Credo was. 

“Full house!” The tycoon announced, prideful of his win. Lady glanced at the husband, a card still unturned. The husband shakily turned the card.

“F-Four of a kind.” He stammered. It took him a moment before he realized he had the winning hand (if Credo’s basic knowledge of poker was correct). He stared at his hand before cheering. The tycoon seemed surprised, staring at the husband.

“That’s not…” He gasped before he collapsed on the ground. Credo snapped his head up. Lady ran over, pressing a pair of fingers on his neck.

“He’s...dead.” 

No. That was impossible. Perfectly healthy men don’t just collapse after a losing hand of poker. They couldn’t. It didn’t make sense. Credo’s gaze focused on the husband, staring at the dead body. 

“N-no...I’m not, I...look, there’s still four of us. Any of you could be King!” He stammered, body shaking once more. Credo scowled. He hated it but he had a point: the demonic energy was still too thick in the air to determine which of them was King. One less man did lessen the energy in the room, but not enough. He glanced at Dante before the elderly gentleman spoke up. 

“Now now, let’s not lose our heads here. Miss, please notify the medical staff. I’ll go get myself a cappuccino.” Credo had to admit, the elderly man was capable enough of drawing a room to his commands. The socialite passed by Dante, murmuring something in his ear, before leaving. Dante didn’t seem that perturbed by her words, perhaps an attempt at a threat? Or trying to pin him as King? As she left the room, Credo stood up and went over to Dante. 

“So, you managed to convince Patty that she couldn’t come? I thought she’d stowaway.” Dante asked with a too casual smile. 

“I forbade it when it was up for discussion in the office and I would have kept her in the cruise suite had she smuggled herself here. This is no place for a child.” 

“Not even for Kyrie?”

“Don’t you dare imply my sister should be here.” Credo huffed. “A sailing casino is no place for children.” The elderly gentleman chuckled.

“Well, it’s never too late to teach them how cruel the world is-”

“Did I  **_ask_ ** for your opinion?” Credo growled. The elderly gentleman stepped back in surprise. 

“Now now, no need to get so aggressive!” 

“Angelface, I’m teasing!” Dante wrapped an arm around Credo’s shoulders. “Hey, how about you go get the bruschetta from the bar. The stuff with the mozzarella on it. Please?” He asked. Credo let out a sigh. 

“Very well.” He stepped out of the room, walking to the bar. As much as he wanted to not return, he knew that it would leave Morrison vulnerable to King. King may have a preference for gamblers but demons feed off humans no matter their vices and Morrison would be another easy meal for King. As he arrived in the bar, ignoring the tasteless name of Angel’s Rest, he blinked in surprise at seeing a familiar young woman at the bar.

Their client, nursing a glass of water. He carefully approached the bar, glancing at the bartender.

“Two plates of bruschetta mozzarella, to go, please.” Credo ordered, taking out the money. He turned to the client, who was surprised at his presence. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” 

“W-Well, I heard there was a big poker tournament so I-I had to come…” The woman admitted. 

“I see. Well, your husband just won the first round, if it’s any consolation. Did you try and convince him that bowing out was a good idea?” He asked. She shook her head.

“N-Not that I could convince him…” She said softly. Credo let out a soft hum. The woman’s story seemed sound but he had to wonder, was the marriage really that stable if her own husband didn’t listen to her? A part of him wondered if she had been duped into marrying him so he could fuel his own gambling habits. He knew better than to ask, he wasn’t as tactless as Dante, but he couldn’t help but silently wonder. He glanced over to the bartender as two carry-away boxes of bruschetta were handed to him. He glanced to the woman, more focused on her glass than on him, before awkwardly walking away. 

At least she wasn’t picking up a drinking habit. The marriage would go downhill even faster if that happened. 

Walking back to the room, he noticed that everyone was there sans Lady, perhaps still dealing with the medical staff over the dead tycoon. Credo walked over to Dante, who perked up at his approach. 

“Try not to make a mess on the table.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, angelface.” Dante said with a wink. Credo wondered if he was being vague to prevent this King from using him or if he was genuinely complimenting him. 

“Aren’t you two cute?” The socialite cooed. Credo felt his face darken. “I’d love to have a little manservant follow me around.” 

_ ‘Manservant!?’ _ Credo resisted the urge to squawk. Dante shot her a glare. 

“Man, who taught you manners.” He asked. The socialite merely rolled her eyes. Credo walked back to Morrison, placing the other box on the table in front of them. Lady returned and the game resumed in silence, save only for the flipping of cards and chips and the roaring sea outside. Credo glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing that it read 3:45am. Nero and Kyrie should be in bed by this hour, provided Cassandra followed his instructions. He wondered what she was doing right now. She mentioned that the Capulet City Boardwalk was a place she was planning to bring the duo and she certainly promised pictures. He wished he could be there, with his family, instead of being on this stupidly expensive cruise for the sake of a client who wanted her husband back alive. But at the same time, Patty would insist on being on the cruise because she claimed herself to be the better gambler and there was no way he would ever let that slide in good conscience. 

Credo was snapped out of his thoughts when the elderly gentleman collapsed on the floor. Once again, what seemed like a perfectly healthy gentleman was gone. A sanguine scent slid into the air like blood in the water, something that seemed to make the remaining players even more invested in winning this too deadly poker game. He noticed even Lady was shocked at how determined they were to continue, to let the others die off to determine who was King and who was the lucky person who walked out of this game with their life. Credo looked to Morrison, equally as shocked as Lady was. 

“I fear Lady is surrounded by madmen.” He hissed. “Do they not realize that this is getting out of hand?” 

“And what can we do?” Morrison asked. “We’re strangers to them. If their loved ones can’t convince them to stop, then nothing can.” He sighed. “It’s awful, I know.” 

_ ‘It’s beyond awful.’ _ Credo thought. He simply couldn’t fathom why anyone would do this. Perhaps that was what would separate him from the others: he would never gamble. He had too much back at home that was at stake for him to even consider it. He looked to the window and gasped.

Morning light. They had been playing all night long. This was utter  _ madness _ . 

The socialite crumpled to the ground. Credo, to his surprise, hoped it was exhaustion rather than death...and yet, he knew better. 

“If I beat you…” The husband muttered. “That would make me King…” There was a hint of madness in his voice, a hint that made Credo’s blood run cold. “Come on, deal the cards!”

“This is madness!” Credo stood up. The two players snapped at him. “You’ve been playing this infernal game all night, three people are dead, and yet you still insist on gam-”

“Credo. Sit down.” Dante said warningly. Credo scowled. 

“Is this infernal game tru-” 

“Sit. Down.” The growl made him stop, his infernal blood cowering at the growl. Slowly, Credo sat down, shaken. He wasn’t sure what Dante’s plan was but it went past fearless or reckless, it was lunacy. That steely facade showed no fear for his own life or the husband’s, did they think that the other man was the demon in question? 

“I’m going all in.” The husband was clearly a lunatic at this point. Dante scoffed.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a little short on chips. And since we’ll have to showdown anyway, if I lose, you can take my life.” Credo gasped at how casually Dante was offering himself up to be slaughtered. 

_ ‘Dante, you can’t seriously be planning this…’ _ Credo thought as the husband chuckled. He flipped his card, the only sound in the room aside from the water feature. Lady’s mouth was agape at whatever the card was. She turned to Dante, who did the same. 

“Royal flush. When two players have the same hand, Spades win.” Dante’s voice rang out. Credo nearly let out a sigh of relief when the husband let out a wail. He fell back, his body hitting the floor.

Dead. 

Credo was about to stand up when Dante stepped back, letting out a maniacal laughter. The unnatural sound made his demonic heart freeze in terror. That sound, that laughter, coming out of him, Credo could only watch in spellbound horror. 

Dante had won, yes, but at what cost? There was no way Dante could be King, no, not after what he had witnessed. The man in the shop, hiding his care behind a ‘i don’t care’ attitude, playing cards with Kyrie despite him always losing, who took him and Nero and Kyrie in, there was no way they could be the same man. It wasn’t possible-

**BANG!**

It was like a spell had been broken over him. He whipped to Lady, who had a pistol out. Dante stood for only a moment more before he collapsed on the floor. There was a moment’s silence before a searing heat burned in his chest, his demonic instincts roaring out in wrath at Dante’s death. He winced from the too-intense warmth. Lashing out at Lady would do nothing, not unless there was a reason for all this. There had to be a reason for this!

“Lady.” Credo whispered, trying to control his now furious devil heart. “What is the meaning of all this.” Before Lady could answer, he heard the sound of one person, applauding Lady. He whipped around, watching as the client stepped into the room. Credo narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Congratulations! I suppose you’re tonight's winner.” Those words and her too-knowing smile...Credo began to piece things together. 

“You were King all along, weren’t you.” Credo hissed. “Luring gamblers to killing each other...or themselves.”

“Well, murdering your own friend, isn’t that a beautiful ending?” She asked. “Practically shakespearean, in fact. You’re half right and half wrong-” She shrugged. “I enchanted a little trinket, bestowed it upon foolish gamblers, and they acted as King.” 

“Bitch…” Lady growled. 

“It doesn’t matter... **_all of you will die!_ ** ” The woman transformed into a demoness. “ **_I must thank you for killing the traitor’s son, but you will be nex-_ ** ” The demoness was cut off, screaming out in agony. Credo had pulled out his Durandal and charged forward, stabbing the demoness in her side.

“I must admit, you had me for a fool.” Credo growled, the Durandal digging into the revealed demon’s side. The comment of ‘traitor’s son’ would have to be confronted later, for now, Credo had a demoness to kill. “And I do not like being taken for a fool.” 

“What!? You...you’re just like...no, you cannot be!” Credo scowled and ripped the Durandal out, sending blood and gore onto the floor. The demoness whipped around and slashed at him, sending Credo back. The knight hissed in pain, glaring at the approaching demon. He prepared to parry another slash when gunfire rang out. 

“Dang it Credo, gotta spoil my grand return.” He whipped to Dante, eyes wide in surprise.

“How?!” 

“ **_Impossible, my magic-_ ** ” 

“Oh, your magic worked alright. I just found out by chance. Patty figured it out for me.” Dante said. “Sorry, angelface, you were out shopping at the time. But I knew you’d object at my plan so it was just between me and Lady.” 

“So worrying me was acceptable? I hope you plan to make it up to me.” Credo growled, charging forward to slice into the demoness. Dante continued to shoot bullets at the demoness.

“Come on, I apologized!” 

“That’s not acceptable!” Credo snarled. Dante leapt over the card table, causing the demoness to turn and give Credo an opening. He sliced off the demoness’ leg, causing her to scream out. 

“ **_You wretch, I will skewer you where you stand!_ ** ” 

“You’ll have to beat me first.” Credo growled. The demoness regrew her leg, causing Credo to frown. 

“I got your back, Credo!” Dante yelled. “Let’s do this!” 

“Together, Dante!” He stepped back, causing the demoness to glower at him. She prepared to strike before the two swords sliced into her. She let out a soft wheeze, a final death rattle, before turning into dust. Credo slowly stood, glaring at Dante. Dante shrugged. 

“Well, I gotta say, you’re pretty handy with that sword.” Dante said. Credo ignored the compliment, feeling quite upset at Dante for lying to him and making him worry. “Hey, how about we go get some trinkets at the gift shop for the kids?” 

“I am not bringing back anything from this floating palace of greed to Nero and Kyrie. I want them as far away from this ship as I can get them.” Credo huffed, walking over to his guitar case to put away the Durandal. 

“I’ll pay. I know the kids are gonna want stories about what happened on the _Paradisio_. Besides, there’s this kid-sized dress in the shop that I know Kyrie’s gonna like-”

“Fine! Fine. After I put my things in my suite, I’ll come along.” Credo huffed. Dante smirked as he went to put Rebellion in his guitar case. Credo hated how easily he could be bribed with promises of gifts for his sister. “And only if we find something for Nero. He’ll hate being left out. He likes a good pair of socks the most.” 

“Socks? What kind of kid wants socks?” Dante asked, tilting his head a little. Credo gave him a look.

“How about you ask him yourself when we return to Devil May Cry?”

“...touche.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, at the start of the chapter: Not sure if Wishes Come True and Death Poker can warrant solo chapters so I'm just going to combine them both!  
> Me, at the end of the chapter: what have i done


	6. Struggling with Power

“Tell me Dante, why are we in a warehouse with a rotting carcass of a buck in front of us?” Credo asked, nose scrunched from the scent. The two men were in one of Ironhaven’s many abandoned warehouses, a relic of it’s Industrial Age glory. There were so many factories and warehouses that finding the ones that could be used, which ones were historial in some manner, and ones that could be torn down without much grief was a hassle for the city. And that wasn’t counting the ones infested with demons that required mercenaries to clear out (and Credo was quickly learning that, while most humans didn’t believe in demons, the local governments believed in demons enough to see them as a threat). 

“Our contact likes big game, what can I say?” Dante said with a shrug. 

“And who exactly is this contact you speak of?” Credo asked. 

“You’ll see.” And that was what Dante left it at. Credo let out a huff. As much as he wanted to ask, getting anything from a stubborn evasive Dante was like pulling teeth. And he certainly tried, but it always ended with Dante clamming up and shoving pizza into his face. He still hadn’t forgiven him for his stunt on the _Paradisio_! True, he could bribe Nero and Kyrie with gifts (and seeing the two light up at the gifts Dante chose for them, even though it was to be quite a pretty penny out of Dante’s wallet) but Credo was not as easily bribable. He would never be bribed or taken advantage of, he had vowed it so when he first left Fortuna. 

A flap of wings roused him from his thoughts. He looked up, Dante noticing the black owl flying over and perching on a broken window before disappearing into nothingness.

“Ah speak of the devil and he appears.” Dante hummed knowingly. Suddenly, a tear opened up before them. A chained large talon came out and dragged the carcass into the opening. The demon groaned as it slowly came out of the tear, manifesting in reality. “You might wanna back up, he’s gonna need some space.”

  
“He!?” Credo yelped.

If Dante said anything, it was lost as a moan shook the warehouse. Both were greeted by an immense demon (it could only be a demon) of anguish and decay. Many smoke colored eyes stared at the two with crushing hostility, and another moan resonated from its sunken mouth as if to intimidate those who summoned it. Eight curved scarred horns adorned its head, chains around them. It’s sleek owl-like head sat atop a skeletal body with chains coiled around the chest. The chains rang out and rattled, overbearingly loud, almost deafeningly so. Flickering energies burst around its torso, flecks of light that made Credo unable to do anything but stare.

After a moment, it suddenly seemed to reel in it’s demonic appearance to properly manifest as a black and smoke grey eight-foot tall owl, eight symmetrical feathers on its head and the four wings being tucked in. The tips of it’s peacock-like feathers faded into an ethereal smoke. It’s two main eyes soon focused on the two and he tilted his head down so that he was near Dante’s height. 

“Hey Ovid.” Dante chuckled as he walked over to pet the demon between it’s main two smokey eyes. The owl chuffed, fluffed up it’s feathers from the affection, and spoke in what Credo assumed was in the infernal tongue of demons to Dante. “He’s with me.”

“How do you...understand him?” Credo asked shakily. Dante shrugged.

“I just know.” The owl began to chitter curiously at him. He felt the eyes seem to bore into his very soul, a feeling that was too uncomfortably familiar. “What, you don’t?” 

“I’m afraid I do not. It sounds...unpleasant.” Dante raised an eyebrow. The owl chittered again, sounding rather suspicious about the matter. Credo hated the owl’s very presence, something untamed and uncontrollable, perfectly willing to skewer them all if it so desired. 

_Kill…_

Credo squeezed his hands into fists, watching as Dante conversed with Ovid. His infernal heart was roused, hungry for blood, and the subject of it’s aggression was Ovid. Dante, thankfully, was oblivious to Credo’s internal struggle with his own demon. 

_Kill...kill…_

_‘No, we cannot go kill Dante’s allies without reason.’_ Credo thought, trying to reason with his demonic blood, the curse in his veins. The demon didn’t take that lying down like it did with Lady, back on the _Paradisio_.

_He lied to us...lied about Ovid…_

_‘And why would anyone suspect an owl as a demon?’_ Credo asked. _‘How could we know? How could we even be suspicious of it? If Dante trusts-’_

_It doesn’t matter! He’s too close to our pups! He must die!_

“Credo?” Dante’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked, seeing Dante look at him, concerned about him. Even the owl tilted his head as if trying to analyse him.

“I’m fine. I assure you.” He lied. Dante raised an eyebrow before shrugging. 

“Suit yourself.” Dante returned to the bird. Ovid’s eyes still bore into him, as if he didn’t buy Credo’s words. His inner demon roared in wrath at Ovid’s stare.

**_I_ ** _am not fine! Kill him!_

_‘No!’_ But already, Credo could feel that self control erode away as his demon roared in his head, drowning out everything around him. In vain, he tried to regain the reins of the angry demon inside him but the demon refused to listen, breaking every attempt for Credo to take control. It hungered for the demonic owl’s blood and Credo was helpless to stop it. 

_Kill him kill him kill kill KILL-_

“Royal Guard!”

* * *

Credo awoke with a killer headache. 

The man groaned as he slowly awoke, a familiar ache in his head and barely able to remember last night. There was...a bird...Dante...no, the bird was an ally, right? He didn’t remember the bird attacking but what happened? 

“You’re awake.” Credo sat up with a start, whipping to meet Dante’s gaze. He was bathed in the light of dawn. He recognized the bedroom, the one he, Kyrie, and Nero shared. Nero and Kyrie were nowhere to be found and he remembered that Patty demanded the two have a sleepover with her at Cassandra’s apartment as the two hadn’t had a sleepover before (he knew Nero hadn’t while Kyrie most definitely had sleepovers before). He remembered immediately what happened when he saw Dante’s stern look: he lost control of his demonic heart.

“What happened.” He demanded. 

“I have questions of my own-”

“Did I take any lives?” 

“What? No. I knocked you out before you went berserk on Ovid.” Dante seemed surprised that _that_ was his first question. “You thought you killed people?” Credo tensed up and looked away. He curled up, placing his chin on his knees.

“I...I was taught to keep my demonic heart in control. Unless I wanted to see those I loved impaled on my blade.” He whispered. Dante was quiet for a moment. 

“Yeah...I can see why you’d ask that.” He admitted. “What was that all about anyway?” He asked. Credo looked over to him. 

“My demonic heart was upset that such a powerful demon had been so close to it’s-”

“His. They’re just as much a part of you as anything else.” Dante corrected. Credo frowned.

“Very well. His...pups, I believe the term is. Kyrie is my sister and Nero is her best friend that my parents unofficially fostered so I’m unsure why it would refer to them as such.” Credo said. Dante shrugged. 

“You know, I knew something about you. At first, I thought you were like me: a half-demon hybrid. But you always smelled like hand sanitizer so I knew something was off. Ovid commented on it...as blunt as he is.” 

“What did he say about me?” Credo asked.

“He called you sanitized, and that was the "nicer" way of saying it.” The knight raised an eyebrow. “Demons don’t look like something out of the heavens.” Dante leaned forward. “So, tell me, what happened.” The memories came rushing back: The Ascension Ceremony, Agnus’ leering gaze, his too clean laboratory, finding out who truly caused the death of his parents, Credo was unable to resist the urge to shudder. “That bad?” 

“I would rather not remember it. The wound is still too raw.” Dante had a distant look in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I get that.” Dante looked back to Credo. “Anyways, I know Piombino doesn’t have the kind of stuff to make half-demon hybrids that smell like hand sanitizer, so you’ve lied to me.” Credo stiffened. “So, where are you actually from?” Credo remained silent for a few more minutes, trying to figure out what to say, before he finally spoke.

“It’s an island off the coast of Piombino. It is named Fortuna. It’s populace worships the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda as a god. The same demon that I believe is your father.” Credo said carefully. Dante blinked.

“Wait...no, you’re pulling my leg.”

“I am not, I assure you.” Credo sighed. “It is an island governed by the Order of the Sword, led by the Vicar of Sparda Ansaldo Sanctus.” He trailed off. “I was one of the Order’s knights.” 

“Well, I never heard of the place, but something happened. Something must’ve sent you on the run with your Devil Trigger and what remained of your family, right?” Credo nodded. He heard Dante lean forward. “And what was it?” Credo looked away. The memories still hurt him. After a few moments of silence, Dante let out a sigh. “Look, you don’t have to tell me what the hell happened right away.” Dante said, standing up from his chair. “Sounds like it fucked you up. But I’ll help you handle your Devil Trigger when you’ve recovered.”  
  


“I’m fine-”

“Your devil half hasn’t, not yet. I…” Dante suddenly sounded a little sheepish, a sound that Credo never would have expected to hear from him. “I kinda knocked him out cold.” 

“...I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t tell that to me. Tell that to the bird.” Dante walked to the door. 

“Wait.” Credo called, ashamed at the weakness in his voice. “You said you never heard of Fortuna but why does Nero look so much like you?” Dante stood there, silent. 

“I’d rather not talk about it. And Nero’s the kind of kid who asks too many questions.” 

“You cannot run from Nero forever, Dante.” Credo pointed out. Dante let out a sigh. “You will have to explain yourself to him sooner or later. Kyrie and I can only control Nero for so long.” 

“Look, I know. I know he’s related to me. I just...I didn’t know I had a nephew. The fuck do I say to him? Sorry I didn’t know you existed because your old man didn’t tell me shit?” Dante hissed. Credo could only sit there on the bed, staring at Dante. He had never seen this emotional vulnerability from Dante before and it was obvious to him that Dante didn’t have experience letting it out. “Fuck. I need a drink.” Dante turned to Credo. “You need rest. I’ll...I’ll talk to you later.” Before Credo could bid him goodnight, Dante stepped out the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Credo winced at the slam. 

“Dante…” Credo murmured. It was obvious that his superior had plenty of baggage involving Nero’s true father. It did confirm to him that Dante was Nero’s uncle but the question remained of who the man was. They didn’t part on good terms, considering the reaction he got from bringing up Nero. He sighed and laid back down on the bed, curling up under the covers. He had much to think about, much to consider, but one thing was certain.

He would hone his control on his Devil Trigger. He couldn’t let it run rampant again. And if Dante was willing to help him control that power, he would gladly take advantage of it. Perhaps, one day, he could hone his Devil Trigger into a weapon like his Durandal, a weapon to protect those he loved from any demon that would intrude on his life. Even from the Order, who he was certain was scouring Italy for him, Kyrie, and Nero. He would rather die than let Nero and Kyrie be ripped from his arms. They ripped his parents from him, why should they do it again for his sister and Nero!? He tightened his hand on the blanket. The thought made him seethe, the idea of the Order, of Agnus and Sanctus, holding Kyrie and Nero in their bloodstained hands. He refused to let that happen.

  
_It would_ **_never_ ** _happen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all fairness, Ovid's a scary hecking looking demon. Not blaming Credo's Devil Trigger for reacting like that.


	7. Interlude of Brothers

Credo tossed and turned in his bed. Not a few days earlier, he had figured out that Dante was the son of Sparda. It had figured it out from the demoness on the _Paradisio_ , who claimed he was ‘the traitor’s son’. Sparda was the only demon who betrayed his kin to save the human race and settled down to be amongst the humans even as something of a divine being, something that he learned when he was a little boy in Sunday School. Of course, Dante’s white hair and relative immunity to most weapons stuck out like a sore thumb. The revelation, a revelation he had planned to confront Dante about earlier, had been lost to his mind when he lost control of his demonic blood, when he attacked one of Dante’s allies almost entirely unprovoked. The shock and shame of his own actions to Ovid had numbed that revelation. Now, with the shock and shame ebbing away, the revelation had settled in at last.

Dante was the Son of Sparda. He was the son of the Savior that all of Fortuna worshipped. 

His first thought was ‘oh thank the Savior Sanctus doesn’t know you exist.’ How would Sanctus and Agnus react to Dante? Agnus would probably try to dissect and prod him like a lab rat, restraint thrown completely out the window. He shuddered at the thought, not wanting to even fathom an unconscious Dante under Agnus’ lack of mercy. Dante could shrug off anything, he had seen it himself, but he couldn’t bear the possibility of such a sight.

Even worse was whatever Sanctus would do. While Agnus could spend hours and hours dissecting Dante, Sanctus could bring the populace to a fever pitch. Dante would never want for anything. Slowly, the lifestyle of wealth and praise would erode at Dante’s morals, until he was nothing more than a pawn to Sanctus’ foul plans. And he hated the thought of Dante losing his kind heart (despite his rough edges). It was what made Dante so special to him…

Then, two things caught his attention: the sound of the front door opening and two very distinct demonic presences below him. 

The man slowly sat up, internally assessing what he had: no weapons beside him but he did know that there were two (most likely) decorative swords downstairs. At best, they would work as blunt weapons. He couldn’t open himself up to retrieve his Durandal, still in his office. He glanced over to Nero and Kyrie, fast asleep, unaware of the demons below (or perhaps Nero was aware and only pretending to be asleep). Slowly, Credo rose from the bed. He noticed Nero’s eyes were following him, confirming that he was only pretending to be asleep (probably for Kyrie’s sake). He raised his finger to his lips, silently warning Nero to stay quiet. He leaned against the door, listening to the two presences below him. 

“Dante...isn’t here.” The first panted, as if he had exerted himself coming here. The second let out a scoff. 

“Liar.” 

“And why...would I have reason to lie to you?” It seemed that the first was either genuinely surprised (something demons rarely were, unless they encountered Dante) or he was suspicious of what information the second had. 

“Because I can sense him up those stairs!” Credo’s eyes widened. “The Son of Sparda...a coward, I never would have thought.” Credo immediately realized that the second was referring to Nero. He glanced to Nero, who seemed shocked at the information. “If I kill him...I’ll take the Dark Knight’s power as my own.” His infernal heart began to seethe at that, awakening from its slumber. He would never let that happen. Even though he was what he considered hardly dressed (a tank top and some sweatpants, courtesy of Dante), he would fight back against the demonic stranger. Demons hardly cared about modesty anyway. 

As he heard footsteps up the stairs, Credo opened the door, closing it shut behind him. He came face to face with a demon in white, looking human enough. He didn’t bother to hide his demonic aura. The demon in white stared at him, eyes wide. 

“Who-”

“If you wish to kill Nero, you’ll have to get through me.” Credo growled, feeling his demonic heart make itself known, transforming him into a demon. This time, his mind felt clearer, as if they were united in purpose for this one moment. The white demon glowered at him.

“Stand aside.” 

“No.” 

“Brother wait-” The white demon suddenly slashed forward, pulling out a sword hidden in his cloak. Credo instinctively held up his arm, only to find it was now a shield. The sword attack was repelled with ease. Credo took advantage of the white demon’s surprise to push forward, sending the white demon down the stairs. 

“You…” The white demon snarled, standing up. Golden lances suddenly impaled the demon’s clothes down. The white demon gasped out in surprise. “What!?”

“ **_It is not strength that makes one worthy. It is conviction._ ** ” The transformed Credo growled. “ **_I care not what quarrel you have with Dante. I will not let you harm my kin, for as long as I draw breath!_ **” With that, he dashed forward, reaching to impale the offending demon with the summoned lances-

“ **_WAIT!_ **” The first voice, the black demon, darted forward. He had one of the swords on the wall in his hand, in a defensive position. Credo skid to a halt, talons scraping against the wood. He regarded the black demon quietly, head tilted.

“ **_Speak._ **”

“I...I apologize…” The black demon panted. “I will take my brother and leave. Please, just let him live.” 

“ **_Your brother threatened my kin. Why should I let him live?_ **” Credo asked.

“For one, I do not think you want your pups to witness you slaughtering a demon before their eyes.” The black demon pointed out. Credo glanced back and froze, seeing Kyrie and Nero peering out from the bedroom. “For another, it is not often my brother is bested by anyone.” Credo slowly turned back to the black demon. 

“ **_...he would do well to learn that power for its own sake is not enough. Even if he managed to best Dante,_ ** ” And that was a very big if. “ **_What then?_ ** ” He did not receive an answer from the demons. “ **_Now go. Take your brother and do not return. Do not take advantage of my mercy._ **” The summoned lances disappeared. The black demon carefully pulled the white demon into his arms, earning a grumble from the wounded demon. Credo watched as the black demon carried his brother out of the shop. When the doors closed, he heard the faint, terrified voice of his sister.

“Credo?” 

He turned, staring up at her, before his demonic heart receded back into him. Before he could step forward, he collapsed onto the ground, the last thing he remembered was his sister’s cry.

“Credo!” 

* * *

The two warriors fought in the pouring rain, water splashing at their feet and making the cobblestone ground slick. Dante had to admit, this Baul demon certainly was a fighter. Kyrie mentioned the demon in white, how Credo turned into a demon to fight against the intruders, with a shaking voice. 

_‘Dante? For the longest time, I thought demons were bad. If my brother is a demon…’_

_‘Well, your brother fought to protect you and Nero, right?’_ He had asked. _‘Credo went through a lot for you two. Leaving home, going through a bunch of countries...that’s a lot to ask of anyone, right?’_

_‘Right...’_ Kyrie had nodded at that. _‘So my brother, despite being a demon, he’s still my brother inside, right?’_

_‘Yeah. Think of it like he’s donning armor to protect you. He’s all about that knight stuff and all.’_ That had soothed Kyrie’s anxiety about Credo’s Devil Trigger (as he had called it). And now, he was facing the very demon that caused poor little Kyrie to get so anxious. 

“So, you got beat up by my own money man.” Dante taunted with a grin as Rebellion clashed against Baul’s swords. 

“Silence!” Baul snarled. “You mock me with that bastard! He merely caught me off guard. I will not be so careless this time.” 

“Bastard?! Now you’re hurting me!” Dante threw his weight into the counter, causing Baul to stumble backward. Baul let out a frustrated pant before he charged again, only for Dante to guard him. 

“He’s a mockery of demonkind.”

“So am I, if you wanna get technical.” Dante spun on his heel to kick Baul in the stomach, sending the demon skidding back. “Any last words?” He asked.

“...he said...power for its own sake is not enough. What does that mean?” The softness in Baul’s voice, as if he had been thinking about those words ever since he had that spat with Credo, made Dante pause. 

“Exactly what he meant. Power for its own sake doesn’t mean shit. You need conviction. Whatever that may be.” Dante explained after a moment of thought. Baul slowly knelt down, panting heavily. 

“Conviction…” He murmured, seeming to stare at himself in his reflection in the rain-soaked cobblestone. Dante watched him carefully. He did sense some internal turmoil inside Baul, as if he was reassessing everything he had done over his life. “All I wanted was Sparda’s power. For all my power, I was defeated by that...that gargoyle-”

“He’s got a name. It’s Credo. I’d appreciate it if you used it over insulting him.” Baul snorted at Dante’s words. 

“Credo...I see. Humans have creeds that they abide themselves too. His is to his family and they...they are the source of his power.” Baul mused. He heard the sound of someone running and looked back, watching as his brother, Modeus, dashed across the wet streets.

“Baul!” He called. Baul slowly lifted himself off the wet ground, meeting his brother’s gaze. Modeus skid to a halt, seemingly relieved that Baul was alive and well, albeit with a battered pride.

“I...Modeus. There’s much I need to think over before I challenge Dante again.”

“Baul, I’m just glad you’re still alive.” Modeus breathed. Baul looked to Dante.

“When I am ready, I will rechallenge you for the right to inherit Sparda’s power.” Dante rolled his eyes.

“I think you’re plenty powerful as is. Gave me a proper workout and all.” He said. “Now, you two got some brotherly bonding to do. I’m going back to my shop and getting a nice hot pizza.” He walked past them, waving his hand at them. “Adios.” And with that, he left the two brothers in the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credo only overwhelmed Baul because Baul was surprised by Sudden Devil Trigger. In a prepared 1v1, Baul would most likely win. 
> 
> Just wait until Dante gets to work on training Credo and his Devil Trigger. That's going to be a doozy.


	8. Control and Freedom

“Cassandra, I cannot thank you enough for offering to take care of Nero and Kyrie while I was...incapitated.” Credo said as he ate the breakfast that Kyrie lovingly called ‘a breakfast pizza’, made for Dante’s love of pizza. It didn’t take too long for him to fully recover, even after the surprise spat with the intruder. Credo was deeply grateful for Cassandra helping him in raising Nero and Kyrie. Faintly, the sound of running water told Credo that Dante was washing up for breakfast. 

“Look, those two are dreams to work with.” Cassandra pointed out. “Hey, have you registered them for school yet? The school year is starting in...three weeks.” 

“Indeed. But I do want them to enjoy the summer, at least a little bit, before they think about school. I already have procured supplies with my salary.” Credo said. “I would have preferred the private school in Capulet City but I do not have the monetary means to send them there.”

“Hey, a local public school ain’t the worst thing.” Cassandra pointed out. “Education is education and I know Nero and Kyrie work hard. They’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so.” Credo sighed, watching as Kyrie brought out another place of breakfast pizza. 

  
“Mr. Dante! Your breakfast is on your desk!” She called as she laid the breakfast pizza on the desk. Credo glanced up, noticing it was covered with sausage chunks and ham slices. He also noticed it was put in a pizza box and raised an eyebrow. 

“Hey, what’s that delicious smell?” Came Dante’s voice from the bathroom. Credo heard the door open and glanced up. He was met with Dante, in leather pants, a damp towel around his neck, and-

No. Shirt. A fully muscular chest, the hint of hair leading down beyond his belt, met Credo’s eyes. Whatever his superior said about Kyrie’s pizza was lost on him. Dante, despite his diet of pizzas, sundaes, and Kyrie’s cooking, was very obviously fit. Credo could feel his heart hammer in his chest, the rush of blood heating his cheeks and scrambling his thoughts. Dante, by every standard, was beyond physically attractive. It was like he was staring at divine beauty. 

He immediately looked away, back to his breakfast pizza, and ignored the knowing chuckle from the huntress. 

“So. What are you doing today Dante? Sleeping in?” Cassandra asked. Dante flopped down in his chair and took a slice of the breakfast pizza. 

“Nah, Credo and I got a job.” The two looked at each other. 

“A job?” Cassandra asked. 

“Yeah. A job.” And Dante left it at that. Cassandra looked to Credo, who had just as much idea of what was going on as she did. Dante ate another slice of pizza. “Good thing Kyrie has this pizza box for us. We’re gonna have to take our breakfast to go.”

“Huh. Early mission, I guess. Well, good luck.” Cassandra hummed. “I’ll be here with the kids. Just come back before 3, Morrison’s comin’ round.” She warned.

“We’ll be done by then.” Dante finished his slice of breakfast pizza and stood up, hanging the towel on the coat rack. He put on his turtleneck long-sleeve shirt and coat, humming quietly. “Good thing the ole girl’s back from the shop.”

“From when you fucked it up from escorting Patty?” Cassandra asked. Dante huffed.

“You were there, you know that demons were hunting her down!” He pointed out.

“And you were sleeping when Patty was lured to the opera.” Cassandra pointed out. “I had to handle the stage.” 

“Not like you relish the spotlight.” Dante rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, bite me.” Cassandra challenged. 

“Nah. Don’t have the time.” Dante said as he packed up Rebellion and his guns. “Hey Credo, pack up your stuff too. Don’t just gawk at me.” Credo felt his cheeks burn even hotter as he stumbled up off the couch to retrieve his Durandal. Whatever Dante had planned...if he needed his sword as well, then Credo would certainly oblige. As he walked past Kyrie, she stopped.

“Credo? Are you going out with Mister Dante?”

“Yes. He needs my aid.” Credo replied. Kyrie beamed up at him.

“I’ll make sure to make something sweet for you two! I’ve been trying to make tiramisu and I think I’ve got it.” Kyrie said. Dante perked up at that.

“I’ll bring him back in one piece, I promise.” 

* * *

Credo took in a deep breath at the fresh air around him. It was an open field, the late-morning sun beating down on them. Dante had shed his coat and Credo had done the same due to the warm sun. The two were a good mile away from the car but miles away from any village or hamlet. 

“Dante, what is this job you spoke of?” Credo asked. 

“It’s a really important one: I’m gonna teach you about Devil Trigger.” Credo blinked. “You  _ do _ wanna control it, right?” 

“Of course!” 

“And that’s why it’s important.” Dante pointed out. “So, let’s start with the basics: What do you know about Devil Trigger.” Credo blinked and stared down at himself. 

“It...it’s a curse. An infernal power that I struggle to control daily. Most of the time, I manage it...but the times I fail…” He trailed off. Dante frowned and crossed his arms.

“Yeah. I get it.” He nodded. “Look, I only came to mine from a nasty stab wound. You already have yours.” He leaned back. “Mine likes to talk in my head.”

“As does my own...although talk is too kind. It is like...containing a wild beast that hungers for death.” Dante hummed at that, running a hand through his snow-white hair. 

“Demons feed on humans for their blood. Human blood is the source of demonic power. Although demon blood will do fine in a pinch…” He shrugged. “Come on, go trigger.” 

“Wait now?”

“Yeah!” Credo blinked and stared at Dante. Did Dante truly wish to see the true form of his infernal curse? He had no idea how to even Trigger the transformation normally! All of the times he transformed was due to external stress, from attacks on the shop to his own control failing in a pivotal time. How was he supposed to Trigger normally, like Dante said? “What’s the matter?”

“I...I don’t know how to do so.” Dante raised an eyebrow at that before letting out a thoughtful hum.

“Hmm...ok, I got an idea. Try to think of Triggering as...putting on armor. You’re all about that knight schtick.” Credo narrowed his eyes at Dante before nodding. It was worth a try. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine his demonic heart as armor, to protect his kin and those under his protective wing. Something simmered inside him, the demonic heart roused for a moment, before it slipped into slumber. Credo sighed at that and looked up at Dante. “No dice?”

“I’m afraid not.” 

“Hm. Time for Plan B.” Before Credo could ask, a sudden surge of energy surged through Dante. Credo stepped back, watching as flame orange energy swirled around him like embers of a flame. In a burst of fire-bright light, a demon was standing before him, covered with black leathery skin and armored red chitin, mimicking the silhouette of Dante’s coat. Slit orange eyes met Credo’s shocked face, brimming with interest at his reaction. The newly-transformed Dante got the attention of his infernal heart, he could feel it awaken under his skin. “ **_There we go._ ** ” He growled, rolling his shoulders. The threatening aura he felt got under his skin, the urge to fight, to protect burning inside him. Credo let out a growl as he felt his demonic heart surge, the demon immediately making itself known, forming over his body.

Much like armor, Credo briefly realized. Perhaps Dante had a plan after all. 

“ **_You can’t keep that demon lock and key forever. It’s just as much a part of you as that knight shtick you cling onto._ ** ” The aura receded, just a little bit. “ **_Instead of trying to keep it on a tight leash, work with it. Don’t expect me to go easy on you._ ** ”

“ **_You mock me if you intend to treat me as lesser._ ** ” Credo growled. 

“ **_Tell me, do you think you got everything under control? Do you think your slip-ups are few and far in-between. Do you think Kyrie and Nero haven’t noticed yet. You’re wrong._ ** ” Credo’s feathers bristled. “ **_They’ve fucking noticed alright. They tell me and Cassandra things they don’t want you to know._ ** ” For a brief moment, Credo stilled. The mere idea of them worrying over him...he never wanted that to happen. “ **_You think you can hide from them forever? You think you even hid the truth of what happened from them? They’re damn smart, kids._ ** ” 

“ **_Shut up…_ ** ”

“ **_Or what?_ ** ” Dante asked, tilting his head. “ **_Continue to let you fail? I dunno, you’re doing just fine without me-_ ** ”

“ **_SHUT UP!_ ** ” Credo’s demonic heart charged forward, slamming his shield arm into Dante. Dante grabbed the shield arm, digging his claws into the shield. Credo hissed at the faint pain. It didn’t deter him, as he pulled out his Durandal and tried to slam down on him, only to be parried by Rebellion. His demonic heart was not deterred, repeatedly slamming down against the Devil Arm. 

“ **_This all you got, birdie?_ ** ” Dante asked with an infuriatingly lazy yawn. “ **_Man, and I fought lesser demons that put up a better fight than this._ ** ” Credo growled at him before curling up, pushing back against Dante’s chest with razor sharp talons to force distance between the two. Dante looked down at his chest before he laughed ( _ laughed _ !) at him, fueling the fire searing Credo’s veins. “ **_Running away? You haven’t even thrown a punch at me! I promise not to Royal Guard you!_ ** ” He taunted. A burst of orange light surrounded his form and his human body stood there with that too smug grin on his face. “I’ll even make it easy on you.” 

“ **_You will learn not to mock me!_ ** ” Credo growled, soaring forward towards Dante, determined to make him eat his words. 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Credo had charged, falling right into Dante’s taunt. The half-devil merely shifted his position, awaiting the slice into his body. Then, a sudden painful burst, right in his chest, an open palm packing more power than the knight had felt in his lifetime. Credo squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his Durandal slip out of his hands. The sound of a feathery flurry, caught by a gust of wind, echoed in his ears. The force of the open palm sent him rolling backwards across the plain, clothes staining with grass and dirt. 

And it hurt so bad.

He barely heard Dante’s footsteps, he swore he heard the faint crackle of a fire following him. Rebellion suddenly stabbed the ground right next to his face, causing him to gasp. Dante leaned against the Devil Arm, looking down at him with a disappointed look that...that hurt him. More than the pain in his chest.

“You never had control, Credo.” Dante said coldly, a lance to his aching heart (or was it from the open palm directly to his chest?). “You don’t have your Trigger, your Durandal is somewhere behind me, and I didn’t even suffer a scratch.” Credo stared at him before his head fell to the side, honey brown eyes meeting his own reflection in Rebellion. His skin was covered with a sheen of sweat from the exertion, blood dripping down his nose. Savior help him, he looked  _ pathetic _ . He merely closed his eyes, unable to will himself to stand. 

“As if I could do anything to a Son of Sparda…” He breathed. 

“That has nothing to do with this.” Dante pointed out. “Even if I was the unlucky bastard of some demon, you were still rampaging like a brat throwing a temper tantrum. Even an Empusa could knock you on your ass.” 

“Empusa?”

“A demon ant, basically. A souped up ant could’ve stopped you.” 

“...then, how do I control this curse?” 

“Stop calling him that, fuck. I told you it’s a part of you. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me about it.” Dante pulled Rebellion out of the ground and sat down on the grass. “Does that make Nero and Kyrie cursed-”

“You’re lucky I can’t move or I would have throttled you for that.” 

“What makes you different from them?” Dante threw at him. Credo couldn’t fathom a response to that. “What if they develop Devil Trigger as well? They can’t run away from that kind of power, they’ll get killed. You can’t protect them forever.” Credo looked away from him, the rawness of the truth burning him as much as the still-present ache. 

“Then what do I do?” 

"Don't call it a curse. I've seen curses and there are some curses that are much nastier than what you've got." Dante began. "That devil of yours is hurting just as much as you are and I’m not talking about the open palm to the chest. He's also confused, scared and hurt. Your short leash isn’t helping shit." He leaned back on his hands, his voice softening. "It's scary, I know, but be glad you're learning from someone instead of facing it alone without anyone helping you. That would be a worse fate for you." The two stayed there, Credo spending that time just trying to recover from the open palm to his chest. "Honestly, the best way to at least start working on your trigger is actually going to your demon, in your head, and talk with them." Credo raised an eyebrow. "What?"

“Chat...with my demon?” He asked as he slowly sat up. 

"Yup!" Dante nodded, helping Credo to his feet. “I’ll fetch your sword, you can have the rest of the breakfast pizza before we return to the shop. Kyrie’s got that tiramisu for us...actually, make sure you clean up your nose before we head back. She’s gonna freak if she sees that I kinda fucked you up. So not looking forward to whatever Morrison has for me...ugh.” Dante said, rolling his shoulder. Credo merely nodded, letting Dante lead him back to the car where the leftover breakfast pizza was.

  
_ ‘Talk to my demon...huh…’ _ Credo thought, leaning onto Dante as they walked together to the car. ‘ _ Perhaps I will consider that… _ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dante's way of teaching? Needling a guy until he's on his ass and roast him with The Hard Truth. But Credo isn't the kind of guy who just turns tail after one beatdown.


	9. Take Flight!

All Credo heard was the squeal of tires, the roar of flames devouring the hotel building, and Nina Powell’s defeated whimper. 

“He’s here...we’re doomed…” She whispered, curled up on the bench. He whipped around, to Trish and Lady. He noticed Cassandra was not among them, perhaps she had borrowed Lady’s motorcycle to rush back to Nero and Kyrie to protect them (she had grown fond of them, a fondness that Credo was grateful for). An instinctive feeling bubbled in him, familiar as he heard people screaming around him.

“Trish, I need you to help get as many as you can out of here-”

“It’s hopel-” 

“I’m sorry, did I address you?” Credo snapped at the despondent Nina. The blonde woman stared up at him with watery green eyes. “If you believe that sitting on the bench crying is all worth doing, then do it somewhere else. Lady and I have a job to d-” 

“PATTY!” Credo whipped around, seeing Patty dashing towards the flaming hotel. He ran after her, his demonic heart surging to the forefront to stop her from running headlong into danger. Patty was definitely a brave little girl but she was still a little girl, still so very human. A feathered arm pulled her towards him, gold-capped talons scraping against the ground as he ground to a stop. Patty was about to yell at him when she turned to meet him. Her eyes stared wide at Credo, shocked at his feathered form.

“What in the…” 

“ **_That was very brash of you, Patty. Running into danger like that-_ ** ”

“B-But Dante needs me! I know it!” She objected. “I...It’s my fault all this is happening, I gotta make this right.” Credo stood there, staring at Patty, bathed in flamelight. On one hand, it was admirable that Patty was trying to make up for her folly, for summoning the demon lord Abigail (if he heard Nina right). On the other hand, it was nothing short of reckless to just let Patty run into the flames. He glanced up, to the looming form of Abigail above them. 

_ ‘I can’t feel Dante…’ _ His demonic heart rumbled. That was worrying. Patty gently tugged on his feathers, causing him to glance at her. The two merely stared at each other, silent for a moment.

“ **_It is...commendable that you wish to undo this. But foolish to run into danger like that._ ** ” Credo gently scolded. Patty batted her wide blue eyes at him.

“But Dante needs our help.” Patty said firmly. “I need to get up there. Mommy’s necklace was what summoned Abigail here, I know Dante’s in that necklace!” Credo blinked in confusion. He remembered hearing that the necklace (Alan’s Tear, if he remembered correctly) was a seal for a powerful demon, the very demon lord unleashed tonight. But Patty seemed convinced that it was more than just a seal: It was a prison in of itself. If Dante was trapped in a magical prison that Patty was confident that she could release him from. It would explain why his demonic heart couldn’t feel Dante, normally able to sense him. 

A part of him knew what he was going to do would normally be something he’d never do, that he’d chastise himself for allowing. But there was a demon lord on the loose, a missing Dante, and she had the only lead to finding him. He let out a sigh. He’d deal with the consequences later. 

“ **_I’ll distract the demon. You find Dante. We must make haste!_ ** ” He held Patty close. He soared up into the air, a burst of feathers flying into the air from his launch. Patty let out a surprised cry as he soared through the air. He dodged the demons that Abigail summoned to harry him and his ward, growling softly. As he flew, he could sense Dante’s presence, muted but there. He surrounded himself with spectral golden spears, sending them upward through the demons to clear a pathway for him and Patty. The demons turned to dust as they were impaled, a screen of smoke to give them a precious few seconds of time for Patty to find Dante. 

As they entered the large hotel room turned ritual room through the row of broken windows, the deathly still air and the faint hum of arcane energy put Credo on edge. He carefully let Patty down, the young girl running to the amulet on the little altar in the center of the room. Credo hoped she had some sort of a plan as he scanned the room for threats. Patty grabbed the amulet and a blue ring opened at her feet. 

“ **_Patty!_ ** ” Credo reached out, only for her to slip into the ring and out of his hand. Gone. And he was all alone.

The wind blew outside, from how high up they were off the ground. The quiet made all of his senses scream that this was dangerous, it was too quiet, too soft, and he hated it. 

“ **_Well well well…_ ** ” A slimy voice shot into his mind, catching him off-guard. “ **_The knight in shining feathers, like in that little girl’s stories._ ** ” Credo slowly turned the window, where he was met with the face of the demon lord in question: colored in a faux golden hue, the demon’s skull-like face stared him down. Two great wings spread wide, hiding the moon and shrouding the room in darkness. 

“ **_And you are Abigail._ ** ” 

“ **_In a sense._ ** ” The demon purred. “ **_Abigail is dead...but their power remained._ ** ” So, the demon before him wasn’t entirely Abigail, merely the inheritor of the demon lord’s power. But who would be this patient in planning out this scheme for the demon’s power? Someone who had interacted with them before, enough to figure out Patty and what she’d do, someone on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach of his memory...

“ **_Sid. I remember now. You skulked around the shop once._ ** ” Credo growled at last. “ **_You were too close to Nero, as I recall, and Cassandra held no love for you._ ** ” 

“ **_That’s it…_ ** ” The voice changed, to that wispy weak voice that Credo remembered. His wing twitched, a few feathers fluttering onto the floor. “ **_I’m surprised Dante has a child of his own, considering how he acts with Patty, but no matter. Dante is gone. And you will join him._ ** ” Credo glanced to the side, watching as demons began to crawl out from small portals.

“ **_Not if I have anything to say about it._ ** ” Credo growled. Spectral golden lances surrounded him before shooting outward, impaling them through the chest and against the wall. Abigail shot his hand forward, Credo dodging out of the way of the swipe. He turned, slicing into him with his Durandal. Abigail screamed out in pain from the slice, scarlet blood spilling out onto the floor and onto his feathers. Abigail pushed his other hand into the room, determined to squish him in his hands. The two hands slammed together, only to meet feathers, as Credo appeared on the other side of the hands before spectral lances pinned his hands to the floor of the room. 

“ **_How!?_ ** ” Abigail snarled. “ **_You should have died!_ ** ” 

“ **_I have secrets of my own, foul demon._ ** ” Credo growled. If he was being honest, he had no idea he could just...blink himself to safety but he wasn’t going to admit that! He merely flared out his wing, sending feathers away from him. Abigail growled and pulled his hands away, the spectral lances shattering into light. Abigail slammed his hand into the wall, properly grabbing Credo. The knight let out a pained groan as he was pulled out of the room into the open air. 

“ **_I wonder how loud you’ll sing, little bird._ ** ” Abigail taunted as he began to squeeze Credo’s body. Credo squirmed in Abigail’s grasp, trying to free himself. 

“That’s MY little bird, you bastard.” Came a familiar voice before a pair of gunshots rang out. Abigail gasped out, letting go of Credo. Credo nearly forgot how to fly from shock, staring at a bloodied Dante with Patty fainted at his feet. His wing caught himself, keeping him aloft. “Credo! Get Patty out of here! This show’s adult’s only!” Dante barked. Credo nodded and shot forward, carefully picking up the unconscious child. He heard a flutter of wings before he glanced up, noticing a familiar black owl soaring in the moonlight. A burst of flaming hot energy hailed Dante’s transformation into Devil Trigger. Credo glanced over, watching as Dante charged with Rebellion towards Abigail’s face, giving him the opening he needed to bring Patty to the ground. He hated the sight of Patty stained with blood, any child covered in blood made his heart churn, but he couldn’t think too long about it. 

“Patty!” He heard Morrison yell as he landed. “The hell is going on!?” 

“ **_We...we found Dante. He can’t fight that demon alone._ ** ” Credo panted, passing Patty into Morrison’s arms. “ **_I need to help him._ ** ” Before Morrison could object, Credo shot back up into the air. He soared into the night sky, watching Dante fighting Abigail on the hotel’s roof with an unfamiliar duel ended scythe with both ends of the weapon in the shape of a bird’s skull, the serrated blades of the scythe coming out on the top and bottom of the weapon, where the mouth would be if the bird skull had flesh around it. Was Rebellion knocked out of his hands? He couldn’t have long to wonder as he slammed his Durandal into Abigail’s back. The demon roared out in agony as blood spilled out into the air. 

“ **_Doesn’t matter how big you get!_ ** ” Dante roared. “ **_Doesn’t matter how ugly you get! You can have all the power to dominate the worlds-_ **

“ **_but it’s pointless as long as there’s people willing to fight!_ ** ” Credo finished. Abigail roared out as the Durandal and the scythe dug into the demon’s skin, blood pouring freely onto the hotel’s roof. The scythe’s blade was scarlet, soaked with the demon’s blood. Dante spun the blade, the bird’s eye suddenly twinkling. With a twirl, Credo noticed Dante’s wounds suddenly and rapidly healed up. Dante charged forward and sliced Abigail in two, the demon’s scream transforming. Before his eyes, Abigail’s form melted away into a bloodied up Sid, crawling away from Dante and Credo. 

“W-Why…! I had all the power, the best of the demon world, and I still lost! It can’t be!” 

“ **_Power for its own sake, for a selfish sake, will always be meaningless._ ** ” Credo growled. He noticed that Dante’s scythe disappeared, replaced with the familiar Rebellion. “ **_But the desire to save and protect...it is a power no demon can fathom._ ** ” 

“Lies!” Sid wailed. “You...you’re not even a real demon! You’re more arcane than demon!” 

“ **_That’s enough outta you._ ** ” Dante growled, pulling out Ivory as his demonic form faded to his human face. “A shame you went too far. I kinda liked you.” Sid stared at him, wide eyed, before darting forward with a war cry. Dante pulled the trigger, a bullet through Sid’s head, and the weak demon fell over dead. Credo let out a slow exhale, looking to Dante as the morning sun rose over the damaged Ironhaven. The dawning sunlight danced along Dante’s red coat, silver hair and blade. The pale pink light softened the rugged hunter before him.

He looked beautiful in the dawn.

* * *

Dante looked over to Credo, smiling. They were both bloodied up, probably exhausted, his own Devil Trigger having faded from exertion, but nothing a nap and a good ole strawberry sunday couldn’t fix. “Well, thanks for helping me-”

To his horror, Credo fell from the air. 

“SHIT!” Dante screamed, running to the edge of the hotel roof. He leapt off, diving down to catch Credo, his body transforming back into his human form in a flurry of feathers. In his other hand, he grabbed a black feather from his coat pocket. He reached out, grabbing Credo’s hand and pulling his unconscious body to him. “OVID!” 

A pair of talons grabbed him and Credo. He glanced up, seeing a familiar large black avian body. Ovid swirled around in the air, descending to the rubble-covered ground. As the bird descended, he noticed Patty was yelling at him from the ground, running up to them. He winced at the blood on her face and clothes. Ovid carefully placed them both on the ground, shrinking in size as he let go of the two. Dante looked up, watching as Patty ran up to him before glancing back to Credo.

“Dante! Credo!” Patty cried as she ran to them. She flung her arms around Dante’s neck, earning a loud ‘oomf!’ from him. 

“Patty! Be careful, Credo’s hurt.” Beyond hurt, a part of Dante worried, but he was breathing. Patty looked down at Credo worriedly.

“Sorry…” She whimpered. “Dante...Credo’s going to be OK, right?” She asked. For a brief moment, Dante realized that she really was a kid and not the little menace he had often teased her about. He reached up to ruffle her hair.

“Hey, Patty. You’re going to live with your mother now, alright?” He said, firm but gentle. “I want you to have a happy life.” Patty stared at him for a moment before nodding. After a few moments, Dante carefully stood, Credo in his arms bridal style and Ovid perched on his shoulder. 

“Morrison!” He called. “Your car still works, right? We gotta head back to the shop, Credo’s out like a light.” Morrison huffed as Dante walked over to his car.

“I’m wounded too, you know. Smoke inhalation and all that.” Morrison grumbled half-heartedly as he walked to the car. Dante made a point to ignore that, more focused on Credo. He wondered what he was going to say to Nero and Kyrie, who would be worried sick about him. But, as his gaze lingered on Credo, despite him being unconscious...he noticed the way the light danced off his hair, clothes, and skin. It made him look as if he were glowing. He had to admit it: he looked beautiful in the morning light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the heck did Sid find the last piece to break the seal?  
> He stole something from Dante because Dante has a hard time locking up the shop when he leaves. Yes I'm calling him out on it.  
> Up next, Nero and Kyrie! They have Thoughts on Things!


End file.
